A Gilded Bird
by TheDevimangel
Summary: Forever bound in light and Love, Nyra finds that After the Blight, the one who said he loved her has abandoned her heart. Will she find herself again, or will the Darkness take another Mage? Amell/Cullen, rated M for sensuality, some violence, and language. Enjoy !
1. Prologue: Harrowing Love?

Romance, Hurt/Comfort. Rated M. Amell/Cullen.

Forever bound in light and Love, Nyra finds that After the Blight, the one who loved her has abandoned her heart. Will she find herself again, or will the Darkness take another Mage? Amell/Cullen, rated M for lemons and sensuality. Enjoy~!

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><p>Prologue: Before every story, there are events that cannot be ignored. The Blight, the need for recruits, the Circle of Magi's problems, those of the Dalish, Redcliffe, and Dwarves. Events must precede a story, or the story has no base. This, this my friends is the beginning of a story just as any other. Whether it is breath taking or not, well, that is up to you.<p>

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><p>The Fade.<p>

The Dream world, as it were. A place of spirits, of demons, and as some say, the Maker. The apprentice could see bits and pieces of these words everywhere. In some places, golden leftovers of destroyed… buildings? In others, demonic statues and twisted shapes. The landscape is barren, rocky earth, cracked like it was deprived of water. It looked uninviting enough, but her task set before her by the Circle, well, it left a lot to be desired.

But she had felt connected to the place, despite its lack of charm. It held power, ancient wisdom. She briefly thought on what came before the pedestal took her here.

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><p>"Now, remember, the Fade is full of twists and turns, and trust is more valuable than gold. Keep your wits about you, and whoever you meet, whatever happens, have a strong will and never accept what they offer you. Demons don't always look or act like demons, and— ," Irving was whispering to her, but Greagoir heard and immediately interrupted it.<p>

"First Enchanter, you _know_ the rules. The apprentice must go through this alone. No one is to aide her, or she will relinquish the right of the Harrowing." He snapped, stepping forward. One of the other templars took the step with him. Erick, the apprentice recognized. One of the rather… inappropriate of the recruits. Rumored to sneak peeks at the female mages when they took their baths. She edged slightly away from him and his wandering eyes.

"The 'right'? The right to go into the fade and face, possibly, possession and death? Sending them in unprepared is not only cruel, but a waste of time and years spent training. If a little advice can harden them enough to resist and defeat demons, then I see nothing wrong with giving it." Irving seethed back. He turned back towards the apprentice, eyeing her worriedly. She was a bit faint and seemed shaky. "Don't worry, child, you will make it through this. I have complete faith in you."

"In the Fade, you will find a test of sorts awaiting you. A demon. If you succeed in defeating it, you will come back and your Harrowing will be complete. Should you fail, we will have no choice but to carry out our duty and kill the demon when it takes your place. If, also, you take too long within there, we will have to assume that you have failed, and we will, again, carry out our duty accordingly. Do you understand what is set before you, apprentice?" he boomed out in the chamber. A chamber, in her eyes, that was far too large for such small, powerful instruments. She nodded, though her heart was hammering and her body felt like molten lead.

"We send them alone, with no warning of the true danger, and you expect them to survive just like that? A simple not of caution, that's all that needs to be said…." Irving muttered under his breath, guiding her forward. She stopped before the font and a few stray, diamond tears fell from her eyes onto the stone. Irving patted her arm and fretted about slightly. "No, dear Nyra, don't cry. I know you can do this. You have great potential and a strong heart. Don't' be afraid of the dark unknown. Your light will outshine them!"

Nyra Amell had always been maybe _too_ delicate. Her hair looked like pure starlight, bright and flowing down her shoulders. Her pale, porcelain skin had a faint rose blush on the cheeks, accented by a fragile, pink set of full lips. Her body had a small, thin frame, making most believe her to be too frail to even cast magic. Her eyes were sparkling, violet stars, staring deep into the hearts of those who dared to look, and emitted kindness and love to all in need. She was one of the most beautiful people in Ferelden, some of the apprentices and templars would whisper. No one bothered to correct them.

She was well loved by most everyone in the Tower, and ever since she was brought to it when she was merely three years old, she had gathered Enchanter's attentions. Most mages assumed she had a low level for spell casting, barely any sufficient will for the simplest of tasks. She was seen studying constantly, but never seen practicing the arcane arts. She specialized in no branch to speak of, and only Irvine seemed to know her skills. Not even Greagoir knew much, other than she would never turn violent until possessed.

"We should get on with it… the faster the better." He reminded the girl, and she only sniffed and nodded.

She stepped forward again, feeling Irving leave her presence, and stared into the mound of prepared lyrium, the portal to the Fade. She placed her hand gently into it, and felt the magic take her away, slowly and yet so suddenly it took her breath far too fast. The last thing she remembered hearing was Greagoir say "Poor girl", and then a red haired templar stare at her in concern.

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><p>She was brought out of her thoughts by the urgency before her. She needed to find and kill the demon hunting her, and fast. But everything looked too much the <em>same<em> here, with winding paths and nondescript landmarks to lead her around. She was warned by a few concerned Enchanters before that no two Harrowing's were the same, and that she should be careful not to be careless.

She had no desire to be consumed by the so far unnamed demon, so she started to make her way through the labyrinth of stone and magic, observing and staying as aware as possible. She noticed, after awhile, that there were tiny little mouse holes everywhere, though why the Fade would have such random things, she did not know. As she bent down to examine one, she heard a scratching sound behind her, and without even so much as thinking sent out a mind blast. A squeak and a little _thump_ were heard, and then everything went silent. Whatever she had sent flying had been far too small, almost…

Mouse sized?

She glanced back in its direction, and felt herself grow cold. _Oh my god, I killed the poor thing!_ She thought as she hurried over to the small rodent, bent at an odd angle against the edge of a rock. She bent down to see how much damage she had caused, and startled when she heard a voice.

"You… have excellent reflex, though identifying your target might have been better in the long run… oh…." The voice wheezed, and Nyra homed in instantly on to what had said it.

The mouse. It was talking to her. _Talking_.

Nyra's eyes grew ever bigger as the small thing started to grow, and grow, right before her. She backed away slowly, preparing a spell in case it became hostile. It started to get up on its hind legs, and seemed to be morphing slowly, until a bright light flashed and suddenly, the mouse was gone. In its place, however, was a young man in mages robes.

Apprentice mages robes.

"… So really, being a mouse isn't so hard. In fact, it's a lot easier to hide in the Fade when you're tiny enough to fit in all its cozy little holes in the walls. Or, more accurately, rocks. Big things tend to die easily, and small things survive." He finished saying, patting his dusty robes and hair. He had a faded look to him, somehow, as if he were a worn painting in need of a restoration. His grey eyes glanced up to her and he smiled sadly.

"Who… who are you?" she asked. Her voice, unused for the past few hours out of nerves and anxiety, cracked at first, but still held its usual charm. It was a quiet song, lilting off in slight tones, hinting fear at her current situation. It fit her perfectly.

"Oh. I'm an apprentice, like you. You can call me Mouse… I can't actually remember my old name here. I've been here so long, that most of my memories have failed me and I'm simply another spirit, abandoned and left here alone. However, eh, I didn't quite pass their test. I'm stuck in the Fade." The boy sighed, trying to animate his voice beyond a dull monotone. Nyra felt for him instantly.

"And they just… left you here?"

"Well, I was taking too long to find the demon, and when I did, I had already felt them sever my ties to my body. My time was up, and they were afraid I had failed, so they simply… struck me down." He sighed again, glancing around. "You don't want it to happen to you, do you?" she shook her head. "Well, then, I suggest you go that way."

The way he pointed to seemed to be deserted, empty, a dead end… but then she looked at it again. True, the rocks were angled strangely, and they did look like they were flat from afar, but as she approached them, she saw it was only an optical illusion. They were separated and very even, but there was a gap in between that she could fit through. She glanced back at the man.

"Aren't you going to come?" she asked curiously. She was wary now, sensing something on the horizon of her mind. Mouse just shook his head and held up his hands in defeat.

"I can't even cast spells anymore. Only become a mouse. I'd be useless to you here. However, I _can_ tell you that the demon is over there. He's milling around, waiting for you to get tired and lost. It's what he always does… and every time I tried to help, he sent wisps after me. This time, though, he didn't expect you so early, so you have a chance at surprising him! Take it! At full strength, I know you can beat him! None of the others ever found him before their mana was depleted." He said, a light glimmering in his eyes.

"But…" she didn't know if she could fight it alone, and that's what bothered her most. She would be _alone_. Mouse seemed to realize this.

"If you needed someone just to be there, though… I could. I wouldn't be of much use other than distracting the wisps he has, but I could be around to support you. I know how scary it can be alone." He added softly. Nyra nodded gratefully, watching as he turned into a mouse and skittered to her feet. "Let's destroy him before your time runs out!"

Before she could even dwell, even think on what she would be facing, she rushed through the rocks and came upon an arena of sorts, surrounded by lyrium and rocks. In its center looked to be a Demon, the first one she had ever seen with her eyes.

The thing was made of pure fire, its lava like body simply _melting_ in front of her. It had no legs to speak of, and its body was crude, glowing red and orange. Its arms were far too thin and long, with claw like appendages on the ends, grasping constantly and forming solid blocks, like fists, every time it seemed to breathe. The face was a blank blob, its only features the eyes, but the eyes were the scariest part yet, and the part that took her breath away.

_Rage_. The eyes held anger, fury, and pure unadulterated _rage_ in them. Their glowing depths seemed to draw her in, freezing her body and numbing her mind. When it spoke, its voice matched with just as much intensity.

"Look what the Circle dragged in." it chuckled, deformed voice laughing its way around her, screaming of hunger and just plain evil. Before she could think of a response, Mouse bit her ankle.

"Keep strong! It's weak against ice magic!" he squeaked, running off towards the sides and, as promised, drew away the wisps that suddenly appeared when she took a step back. The demon slugged forward, sending a series of small fireballs at her. She put her shield up immediately and returned with a few well aimed ice spears, sending the demon back flying. As the demon got up, it started to spew more fire, this time all over the ground, and Nyra was ready for it.

She stood her ground as she gathered her mana together, drawing power from the lyrium vein on her left, and the temperature started to drop at an alarming rate. The Rage Demon stopped spitting its fire for a moment, glancing around as a fine snow started to appear, confused by the appearance. It didn't rain or snow in the Fade. The Fade had no weather to change.

Having gathered enough power and focus, Nyra unleashed her spell upon the fiery demon, a blizzard forming around the molten skin. As it started to realize what would happen next, it rushed towards the apprentice, claws outstretched and a horrible screech filling the air, but it was far too late for it to do anything. Its skin started to harden into rock, and then slowly became encrusted in ice. Its eyes lost its glow, and the blizzard let down. The wisps to her right disappeared, and when she was sure that the demon was completely at her mercy, she shot a final ice spear at it, shattering the hideous thing into tiny, iced fragments. Mouse, after a brief shake, morphed back to his human form and jogged to her, out of breath.

"That was amazing! You defeated it like it was nothing!" he exclaimed, a light forming in his eyes. "None of the others ever even came close to defeating him."

"Well, if it wasn't for you, I probably would have ended up with the same fate… but, I don't know, something about that felt too easy." She muttered, staring at the demon's remains. Mouse just smiled.

"The other apprentices weren't in the slightest prepared, and, as I've already said, they didn't have as much skill as you have! You're free now! It might take a few minutes to get back, though…." He stopped suddenly, and looked around, sadness overcoming his previous joy. Nyra frowned and looked up at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Well… now that the demon is gone… I have no purpose here." He admitted sadly.

"Well, can't you move on, now that you've been, roughly, avenged?" Nyra had thought that was how spirits moved on after violent deaths. "There's nothing left to hold you here."

"Well… actually, I think _you_ might be the reason I didn't fade away with that demon. I think my purpose is to help you." He suddenly looked hopeful.

"How are you supposed to do that?"

"Well… you're a very powerful mage. Me? I'm not nearly as, nor ever could I be, so powerful. It's possible that when you go back, you could take me along so I could lend aide when necessary, and help you along the way to the top in the Tower. You're obviously First Enchanter Material, and I think I've been given this chance at redeeming myself to help you." He explained, gesturing and … seemed to be trying his best to _sell_ her on it.

"So… in exchange for me letting you in my body, you'd give me… power?" she asked, keeping her voice level and curious. Suspicion started its way throughout her mind, and she remembered Irving's words; _Demons don't always look or act like demons…_.

"Well, I couldn't exactly give you any, I don't have much, but I could help you achieve it." He smiled, the perfect picture of peace and friendship.

Except that Nyra instinctively _knew_ that he was lying.

"I don't do deals with demons." She said flatly, frowning and crossing her arms.

That maybe wasn't the smartest thing to do. The moment she said 'demons', Mouse stopped smiling and abruptly _changed_. Just like he morphed into a mouse in the first place, he started to glow and shifted into something else entirely… demonic.

His body was that of an armored corpse, rags floating around him and covered in blood. His face was partially hidden by a rusted helmet, but his visible eye glowed deep red. He had a staff in his hands, marking him more mage than warrior, and his lower half was made up of scarlet robes. The Fade seemed to get darker as he finished his transformation, heralding the power he held as a Demon of Pride.

"I am Pride. Too long have I spent here, waiting for an apprentice to fail. Too long have I held my agreement to the Circle. I have spent too much time here, and had nothing but the leftovers of other demons, no real power to claim as my own. I have grown weary of all this dancing, human, and to the void with the rules; I'm going to take you, whether you want to be taken or not!" he rumbled in a voice so filled with power that Nyra felt her mana fall and her fear rise in its place.

_It's draining my mana and my will…_ she thought, desperately trying to cling for something, anything to save herself. It came ever nearer, awful hand outstretched, patience running thin and supreme want in its eyes, horrendous _Pride_ as it came closer to taking her.

"NO!" a voice shouted behind her, carrying with it a wave of raw magic. Nyra's mind cleared instantly, and she saw Pride's visible eye widen ridiculously large before it was suddenly impaled by a lyrium fragment the size of her own body, and then another, and then more, smaller fragments, over and over, before all that was left was a pincushion of a demon.

_Oh… oh, my… Maker, what could have possibly…?_ She turned around, slowly, gasping for breath….

And met the gaze of the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life.

A woman stood before her, arm outstretched with the remains of small lyrium shards hovering around them. Her skin glowed like the moon, carrying radiance far beyond that which any demon could muster. Her flowing hair seemed to float partially away from her body, blonde and full of a fire the likes of which no mage had ever created. Her eyes were a soft pink, but not anything that could lead to a red. More like that of a loving rose, a gentle, bright color, the color of Nyra's cheeks. Her nose was small and delicate, her mouth curved and smiling serenely, and her features were rounded off like that of a cherub's. Her body had soft curves, and she wore a strange outfit of white cloth, glowing as her skin did, framing her body like a sheet. Her clothing and her body were accessorized with glowing blue stones, lyrium power that enhanced her natural grace and destruction.

Nyra was in awe and fear of this beautiful creature until she squeaked out a few words.

"What are you?"

The woman, if she was one, laughed gently and smiled wider. When she spoke, her voice sounded soft and kind. "My name, and in fact who I am, is Love. A spirit of the Fade, born here instead of _there_." She gestured towards a portal. It must have meant back to reality.

"Wh-… Why did you help me, Love?" Nyra asked, her voice cracking and suddenly so tired….

"I helped you because I have watched over you since you came to the Circle." She paused as Nyra gazed at her, awe and confusion mingling together. "Let me explain further, yes? When you were born, you're parents knew without a doubt that you had been blessed with magic. Your hair and eyes shone with it, and you're body reacted… harshly to it. You were ill, in a way. Being mages, they tried their best to heal you and hide you over the span of only a few months. However, templars…" she paused again, shook her head and sighed. "Templars came. Your father died protecting your mother, and your mother ran to Lothering. There she kept you hidden and safe for a few years, until the templars tracked her down to there as well. As she lay dying, she called out for anyone, someone to help her daughter. You were ill, so very ill, and you needed someone to take care of you constantly. Your mother, in her last moments as a 'maleficarum', called straight into the Fade for somebody, anybody, to help her child. Naturally, demons flocked to you in an attempt to possess you from birth."

Love smiled. "I got there first. Your mother's request was one made not for power, not out of greed or sin, but out of Love. Me. I felt her call and, honoring her last wish, bonded myself to you. The templars took you away, and because I was with you, the Fade no longer made you ill. You stopped shining so elaborately, and you were safe as long as I was with you. People have loved you because I blessed you with a heart so pure, they could not help but to. And with me, you won't need to be afraid of the Darkness anymore. Nyra, I know this is much to ask, but if we bond now, I can save you and your friends from what may come, what will come, and what has already passed. Will you take me?" she glanced at the portal with alarm. "Quickly! They are getting restless. You have already spent far too long here!"

"But-," her head was reeling. _Let a spirit, a creature of the _Fade_, no less, into my body and hope it isn't a demon?_ "I… I don't know."

Love nodded in understanding. "I know it's hard to trust here in the Fade, but I cannot continue to protect you from the sidelines this way. I need to be near you, or apart of you that is, to protect you and fulfill my promise. Touch my hand, and you will know me for who I am." And with that, she held out her hand invitingly, tenderly. It was a simple gesture. But, if it was so simple, then why did it feel that, for the world, it was the weightiest decision she would ever make?

She took a deep breath, dug into her heart, and, finding nothing to stop her, took the steps forward that placed her right in front of the spirit. However, as she took the last step, directly in front of the hand, the portal to the side shimmered. She could see clearly into the real world, and she saw Greagoir shake his head and heard his voice.

"She has taken too long. We can only assume she has failed." He sighed, nodding to the side. Love gasped and turned back to Nyra.

"Hurry!"

Without thinking on it, Nyra put her hand in Love's and felt the world explode around her. A feeling of tender care, of warmth and light filled her, sending a wave of magic rippling through her body and into her heart and head. She could recall memories from when she didn't feel as alone as she though, or wasn't only with the people she could see. A baby, crying in a strange light, seemingly coming from its own body. A templar rocking the same baby, now unglowing and a toddler, in his arms and telling her how pretty she was. A young Jowan racing her up the stairs, earning smiles instead of disapproving sighs from the Enchanters. Wynne, one of the Enchanters, teaching her a healing spell when she was only eleven years old, and clapping with happiness when she did it right. A templar with red hair, helping her up the stairs when she had fallen, so she could heal herself. The same templar watching over her while she studied endless nights in the library. And yet again, the same templar, staring at her with worry as she drifted off into the Fade for her Harrowing. All these memories, some she remembered clearly and some she didn't even know were hers, flowed back into her mind. She felt, at the edge of her mind, a presence, a guardian against the demons. She had assumed it was her dead mother protecting her from the Fade. But it was Love that had guided her her entire life, all she needed now was to put faith in her.

"I trust you." She whispered before she suddenly crashed back into her body.

She awoke with a small gasp, barely moving, only to find that above her was a silver, shining sword. Pointed directly at her breast, no less. When she tried to scream, she found her voice hoarse and unusable, only able to stare through heavy eyelids in horror as it started to descend.

Time didn't slow, per say, but her breath seemed to make her body go faster, keep with the movements. She was able to take in everything at once, every detail at the corner of her vision. Irving was staring with regret and shaking his head, and Greagoir looked absolutely grim, but with a purpose. The Templar above her was solemn and had left a tear at the corner of his eye, unshed, kept close to the brink. The red headed templar, the one she remembered being there more than the others, was looking at her with horror and anguish in his eyes, though his face betrayed nothing. She focused on those golden brown eyes, a feeling of… something flowing through her.

Just before the sword reached her, she gave a small cry of "Cullen" before it hit.

But energy had built up beneath her, preparing itself for the moment to strike, and right when the sword reached down only a centimeter from her skin, it was pushed back by a glowing mass of energy, a large amount of seemingly liquid lyrium. It had started behind her and flowed around her in small waves and rivulets, forming what seemed to be scales to protect her from further harm. The sword was entrapped in the glowing crystal, unyielding, and the recruit that had just about killed her stepped back as the mass tracked and started towards him. Nyra, seeing this, pleaded that it not hurt him. He was only doing his duty, nothing more, and nothing malevolent. It receded almost immediately and formed back around her, bringing the sword over her flat and encasing it entirely. After more movement, the casing stopped and Nyra felt it warm up and suddenly soften.

"Do not fear, darling one. I will protect you from their heathen methods. They will not have you." Love whispered through her mind, caressing her with Lyrium fingers and soft, warm magic. It felt like, well, love.

Before she fell asleep from the sudden use of magic, she saw Irving and Greagoir coming to her, both with glowing hands, and the red haired templar coming towards her with a… greatsword?

_Oh well… dwell on it another day. _Love sighed, and Nyra fell into a Fadeless dream.

~*.*~

"She's taken too long. We can only assume she has failed." Knight Commander Greagoir announced, mostly to Irving. The Enchanter started to argue, but glanced back at the setting sun behind the tower windows. It most certainly _had_ been hours. He could find no more reasoning to give her time.

Cullen gazed at the body of the apprentice in question. Such a beautiful creature, to be sure. Her soft, fragile face held his interest for years and years of yearning he didn't understand, and her light hair had always smelled of flowers and herbs. Every time she smiled at him, he felt his heart tug and his own answering one, albeit small and barely noticeable, towards her. But the mention that she might have failed, or that her time was up made his stomach clench painfully and his heart simply _must_ have been ripped out. He was sure no one else felt or saw it, though.

He glanced at the First Enchanter, Irving, as he sighed again, which only spurred Cullen's rage. He should demand more time, not simply give up on her! She must nearly be done by now…. He couldn't just not watch over her anymore. She had to come back to the library to read more books on magic, and yes, even children's books. She had always been fascinated by poetry and children's rhymes. He had to watch over her as she mixed potions and helped the plants grow, as she cast a series of spells on a small stone, to change and channel it. He had to be there to protect her from herself.

If she's gone, what is there to protect again? Nothing. Only guard the outside world from the rest of them.

He froze as Greagoir called over a new recruit, one who had yet to attend a Harrowing. Cullen felt a brief sympathy for him before he remembered that he was about to kill the girl. He started to recite the final sending for her, taking his sword and raising it above his head.

"Ashes to ashes, spirit to spirit. May the Maker forgive you of your sins and take you back to his side, and may he never let you leave his side." He said solemnly. Cullen closed his eyes, briefly before he heard a rattling breath.

She came back.

But it was too late! The sword was crashing down, and even the Knight Commander had noticed a small movement from her. He, Cullen, and Irving had started forward, shouting to stop, but the sword was already plunging down, and everyone but Cullen closed his eyes at the soft cry.

And then everything exploded in a light of lyrium and crystal. The sword was stopped by a strange mass of glowing blue, smelling of magic and raw lyrium, and the templar recruit was pushed back and snapped at. The blue substance formed around her body quickly, encasing it in scales of some sort, some large, some small. It continued to grow until her body had been lifted about three or so feet from the ground. Her arms were put over her chest calmly, and her eyes were focused on him, only him. She felt his gaze as he rushed forward, great sword being slid from his back. As it stopped moving, Irving cast his spell, trying to free her from whatever it was. The recruit and Greagoir had gathered their templar power and tried to drain any magic from the area after Irving had failed, but all it did was make the crystal glow and _ting_.

When Irving got back up, they all stopped to see what it actually was, and Irving gasped in awe. The entire structure had formed a massive rose, in full bloom with the long sword at its center, glowing bright silver, and Nyra underneath it, seeming to sleep as a soft, soothing song came from it.

"What in Maker's name is that thing?" Greagoir demanded, rounding on Irving. The man seemed deliriously happy and troubled at the same time.

"It is a raw form of lyrium, summoned by a spirit of the Fade. Only true spirits, born by the maker can do this kind of magic. One of them must have found Nyra and protected her from dying a wrongful death. Such things have been known to happen." Irving mused, walking forward and laying a hand on the Crystal. The song stopped and a few of the petals started to extend sharp thorns, as if in warning. Irving nodded and withdrew his hand. Cullen, however, was horrified.

"She's possessed then? She's an abomination?" he choked, staring at the figure in the crystal. She didn't _look_ like an abomination.

"No, not at all. Once a Fade Spirit, not a demon or ghoul or anything that might have been human, bonds with a mage, it protects and aides the host. It's not possession. It's protection. The spirit doesn't actually reside in the body, like a demon would. It merely wanders in it, staying apart of the Fade as it lives with its Host. A Demon kills the person inside and takes over most of the time. Spirits have no need nor want to." Irving tried to explain, and as the song came back, a soothing hymn, the templars lowered their arms.

"What spirit would you think it is?" Greagoir grumbled, eyeing her warily.

"Well, there _are_ many types, so I will have to look into it, but I believe it to be a very powerful spirit, as active as it can be. Maybe a spirit of Purity, or of Kindness?" he guessed, stroking his beard. Just as he was about to continue, the rose shivered slightly, and a tendril of lyrium started to creep over. Everyone stepped back almost immediately, but there was no apparent need for alarm. All it did was form words in front of them, or more accurately, one word.

Love.

"I guess that answers your question." Irving laughed. "It's a spirit of Love."

"Isn't Love a little Dangerous?" Greagoir grumbled. He wasn't expecting an answer, but the rose suddenly extending its thorns sharply, each about a foot long, and the word on the floor formed many more.

Very Much So. Keep that in mind next time you try to harm her.

"Is the spirit _threatening_ me?" he barked, glaring at the words.

No. _THIS_ would be a threat.

And the rose shot out a lyrium shard toward the Knight Commander, stopping it just an inch from his exposed throat, hovering in the air with no apparent controller. Irving sighed and put up his hands.

"Greagoir, just… stop antagonizing her. The spirit isn't human, and has no need to fear you. If you harm Nyra, you will face its wrath, and templar abilities can only do so much against actual _pieces_ of the Fade." He grumbled on, and then turned to the crystal. "You have no need to fear. Nyra has passed her Harrowing, yes?"

Yes. Quite Well, In Fact.

"Then she is no longer in danger. Please, allow us to get her to her bed, and let her rest. She must be simply exhausted." He pleaded, and the rose started to shiver, drawing back and receding into the floor again. The sword had seemed to disappear with it, and Nyra was… bathed in a soft glow. Greagoir nodded to Cullen after a second.

"Take her to her bed. Make sure she isn't disturbed."

"Yes sir." He saluted, and then walked over to pick her up. He paused to brush the hair out of her face gently, making sure that the Commander had started talking to Irving and that the templars were busy leaving, and he picked her up without trying to jostle her as much as possible. She sighed slightly and curled up against his armor, feather light eyelids closed gently against a smooth, pure face. Her serene smile did _things_ to Cullen's heart, and her scent stayed the same as ever, flowers and herbs, though she also hinted heavily at lyrium now.

Cullen started down the stairs, counting her heartbeats as they came, and smiled on the inside, feeling something no templar should _ever_ feel for a mage, or anyone else at that matter.

* * *

><p>A Passing of Time: This was the <em>very<em> beginning, a part of the story that could not be skipped, that could not be altered. Other parts mean little, though they are important. The Grey Warden Commander, Duncan, came to the tower with a sorrow laden Cheryl Cousland, of Highever, who had just lost her family to some traitorous arl, Arl Rendon Howe. She was one of his recruits, and Duncan was looking for a mage to join the fold. During his stay at the tower, however, Nyra's long time friend, Jowan, had somehow broken into the phylactery storage area, breaking his own and escaping in a fit of blood. Her best friend had turned out to be a blood mage. Seeing the templars dying, she used her own magic and some of the Love's in order to bring them back from the brink of death, and healed them completely. Duncan, seeing this power, asked for her assistance during the Blight, as a Grey Warden. She politely declined. Irving did as well. Then Duncan went a step further and used the Right of Conscription. Forced to join their ranks against her will, and against that of Love's, she headed to Ostagar with the brooding Cousland and Commander.

She met the king, his advisor, and many others as well, along with a particular Warden, barely six months in, named Alistair, who happened to be an ex-templar. She, along with the other three recruits, took part in the joining, though only she and Cheryl survived. Afterwards, the battle that took place was legendary in its humiliation and wrong doing. Cailin had been betrayed by Loghain, his most trusted advisor and father in law. The wardens were mostly wiped out, save for the newest members and Alistair, and they started on their path with Morrigan, the Witch of the Wilds, to recruit an army to take the darkspawn and destroy the Arch demon. Along the way, they met another Dog, much like the one that accompanied Cheryl everywhere {named Tiamat}, a Mabari who imprinted itself upon Nyra and was named Bahamut, and two others. A lay sister of the Chantry, Leliana, and a Qunari Warrior, Sten.

The company worked its way through the treaties, first to Orzamar, and then back to the Circle of the Magi Tower.

Not all was well, as they would soon find out.

* * *

><p><strong>AN **Prologue One is done, and the next chapter will actually be another prologue, to explain what happens at the Circle. After that, my friends, it's onwards to the actual story, post Blight. I hope you enjoyed and will continue to do so~!


	2. Prologue: A Loving End to their Means

Thank's be to my first review, Selenora, and of course the creators of Dragon Age, Bioware, etc. I own only myself, not this game. A little shorter, yes, but only because there's not much extra going on in this one.

* * *

><p>Prologue Two<p>

The Tower was a complete and utter mess.

Templars were sitting up against the walls, wounded and only half of them being tended to. Nyra cried out with shock as she took in the state of the Tower, but recovered as a templar on the side started to cough up his blood. She dashed forward, onto her knees in front of him.

"You'll be alright, just keep with me for a moment longer…" she murmured, gathering up a powerful healing spell in her hands. The energy flowed in them for a second before they drained into the man's body, healing and knitting back the flesh and muscle tissues. The man, once capable and breathing evenly, nodded his silent thanks to her, and Nyra simply nodded, got up, and moved to the next one. There wasn't time to think of the situation, what was going on, because all she knew was that there were wounded men in desperate need of medical attention.

The entrance hall was filled to the brim with templars, over half of them bloodied up and torn, dying or dead, and the rest were obviously exhausted from numerous days without rest. The walls were covered in blood, and the tapestries were ripped open. The few tables and chairs that had been here were all either broken or shoved to the side, holding candles and health poultices. Makeshift beds were made of some of the carpets and tapestries still intact, and empty boxes of supplies were littered in the corner. No mages were in sight.

"This does not bode well for your fellow birds, Nyra. It looks as if the cage lost its key." Morrigan remarked, glancing around with an upturned nose, though there was a tint of apprehension in her voice. Alistair scoffed.

"Looks like _someone_ decided to play dragon a little too well in here. Hey, you, whats going on?" he stopped a passing templar, or more accurately a recruit from the armor, and the young man simply shook his head.

"Maker help us, abominations just over ran the Tower not but a few weeks ago! Everyone was returning from Ostagar when, out of nowhere, demons came out of the Harrowing Chamber! No one else but the Commander seems to know." He pointed over to a man with a grey head of hair, beard pronounced and a bit ragged from worrying. Alistair thanked the young man and the group started to head towards him.

"Greagoir, what happened here?" Nyra exclaimed, getting back down on her knees to heal yet another man, this time with a gash on his head and arms, barely conscious. Greagoir's eyes widened considerably before he laughed darkly.

"Blood magic, that's what happened!" He cursed, shaking his head. "When you left, everyone had started to argue mindlessly over the Blight and how the mages could stop it if they were only free, or how they couldn't do so much even if they were! All mindless babble until a group had been sent to Ostagar. When the survivors arrived back, though, Uldred and Wynne were the only ones left in charge. The few others were worse off than before, and almost immediately flocked to the snake tongued bastard."

"I'm to assume this Uldred you speak of is an unpleasant man?" Leliana questioned, and Nyra grimaced from her spot, finishing her spell. The man politely thanked her and got up to help the others.

"Uldred had always been one of… questionable tastes. He was very for the idea that power belonged to magic users, and that since we have power, we should use it only for our own gain. He was clever at worming his way into an apprentice's heart, but most could see him for the snake that he was. I don't even know _why_ he was still on the Enchanter's board." Nyra stopped to swallow a lyrium potion, took a deep breath and started to heal more men.

"Sounds like the man deserved his fate in there." Oghren shrugged past the guarded door.

"Deserved? He's the one leading the demons in the first place! He's the main blood mage, and his followers are either mind controlled or volunteers. The rest of the mages were taken hostage or couldn't escape, so we locked as many as possible out there. We can take _no_ chances here." Greagoir snapped, walking away from them briefly, returning with another lyrium potion. "I do appreciate your help, don't get me wrong, but this is a templar matter, and templars will handle it. I'm sorry grey wardens, but there are no darkspawn here, and we don't have to means to provide you support at the moment. I've called for reinforcements, but they won't get here for weeks, maybe even a month."

"Wait, reinforcements?" Nyra asked sharply, pausing in her healing. When the man beneath her groaned, she continued, but Greagoir still held her attention. He seemed rock steady at first, meeting her gaze, but eventually lost his will and averted his eyes.

"The Right of Annulment." He murmured. "It must be done or-,"

"NO!" Nyra shouted, causing her healing spell to radiate over several other men at once, healing them maybe a little too quickly. Greagoir flinched and shook his head.

"It's the only way to get rid of all the abominations without a doubt! They can look like humans, or be blood mages and-,"

"Love can see who is who. She's a spirit of the Fade, and can sense the magic that has gone wrong here. Blood mages and abominations will be dealt with, don't get me wrong, but innocent lives need not be lost so long as there is another way. I will not lose my fellow mages unnecessarily, and as Grey Wardens we have come to seek aide." She paused to move over to some men a few feet away, with minor injuries. "Mages and Templars are very powerful allies, but they can't help if they're all dead. The Blight _must_ factor in to the decisions made here."

"And should one abomination get away? What then?" he demanded.

""I would rather let one maleficarum go free then condemn dozens of innocent lives to death, for nothing other than the fear the Chantry has of losing its precious _balance_." She stated with conviction. Upon finishing, she unleashed a larger scale of magic than before, healing everyone else she hadn't gotten to immediately. The group took this as a cue to scatter and prepare themselves.

Leliana had taken out her extra supplies and was spreading bread and water out to some of the exhausted men, soothing them with a little humming under her breath. Cheryl {Cousland} headed over to the Quartermaster, asking after supplies and any useful information she could scrape up. Bahamut and Tiamat, the Mabari hounds of the newest Wardens, had gone over to relieve the guards at the door, standing at the ready as if an ogre would charge through at any minute. Morrigan sidled over to the entrance carefully, probably following the thought that since she was in a Tower under siege, and surrounded by templars, she might need a quick getaway. Oghren and Sten went over to the corner, the dwarf looking for ale and the Qunari just stood still and silent, awaiting for when they would move again. Alistair stood by Nyra's side. Greagoir looked about him confusedly, wondering why they had all moved, and turned back to the girl.

"What was that all about?"

"I do not mean to undermine your command, Greagoir, but we have our plan set. We'll be getting ready to move forward, and, once everyone is ready, we will deal with the problem before you. We _need_ the aide of whatever mages are left, and templars too. If we have to do this, then we shall." She assured with absolute authority in her voice and face, however kind she presented it. The Commander sighed.

I…. Fine! Go in then. But once you enter, I will bar the doors and only accept the word of the First Enchanter that everything is alright. If he is gone… then…." He shook his head and again sighed. "Nothing more can be done. Irving is far too stubborn to just give up and die. If he's gone, then it's only because all the others have fallen as well. Well… accept for Wynne."

"He will be safe." She promised him, getting up again and stumbling slightly. Alistair came forward and caught her before she fell to the ground, catching her against his splint mail armor. She smiled up gracefully at him, pulling herself back on her feet. He smiled back, even after she had turned away from them both and dug into her back pack for another lyrium potion. As she searched, she paused, looked around at all the helmless templars, and turned back to Greagoir. "Where is… Cullen? Is he not here?"

Greagoir grimaced slightly, shaking his head. "He was on the fourth floor, trying to get to the Harrowing Chamber. Uldred would have dragged every mage he could find up there, where most of the Tower's magic is centered. His Abominations guard him closely, even down here on the first level, and we haven't heard back from the group we sent in to investigate further. The halls are littered with Blood mages, and no one has been trusted so far…. Are you sure you can handle this task? There will be much fighting, and this time it's not against darkspawn."

"Yes, I'm sure. This was my home once, and I refuse to let it stay like this." She affirmed, breathing in as she gulped down another potion. Morrigan scoffed slightly and interjected.

"Why would you want to save your old cage? A pretty cage, I am sure it t'was, but a cage none the less. Tis gone, Nyra. A corpse whose heart is barely beating, close to death." She explained, still safely near the exit. Nyra glanced back at her, a smile curving on her lips.

"Well then, it's a good thing I happen to be an excellent healer, eh? Time to get to work on this 'corpse', and see if we can't bring it back to life." She smirked, and Morrigan shook her head and began to pace back and forth. Nyra decided that maybe she needed a little prodding. "And if they have mages _here_ to occupy all of their time, then they won't have as much time to hunt… Apostates, maybe?"

Morrigan glared back at her abruptly before her own lips curved into a rueful smile. "Fine then. We shall save these birds, but know I think tis a waste of time. They are long lost, the weak fools."

"Duly noted, the swooping witch thinks that saving lives is a bad thing." Alistair mocked, snorting his displeasure. Nyra simply smiled and returned to rummaging in her pack. "May we speak?"

"Of course. What's on your mind?" she asked, pulling out yet another lyrium potion and a small bottle of apple juice. She guzzled down the potion and tossed the vial aside before she unstoppered the juice and sipped it a bit at a time. Alistair was blushing for some odd reason….

"I just wanted to see if you're really all right. You know, being back here, in these… conditions." He came forward, maybe a little closer than necessary. Nyra sighed lightly, feeling Love try to comfort her.

"I had expected to feel wonderful, being back her where I belong. But now? I'm not so sure. I was rippedfrom the only life I knew against my will, and… yes, it does feel nice to sometimes be out in the open, fresh air, but… sometimes, I wish I had just stayed here, you know?" she drew in a ragged breath, tears starting to brim delicately at the corners of her eyes. Alistair came closer, reaching out and grasping her shoulder gently. Through all the material, Nyra could still feel his warmth.

"You couldn't have done anything to stop what happened here." He started, but she was already shaking her head.

"Yes, I could have. After Jowan… after he fled, I took out the Litany of Andralla, memorized the entire thing until I was sure I could sing it on a whim, and Love taught me how to combat blood magic. Uldred isn't a human anymore, he gave that up for power. Now he's a demon of Pride, and they're no match for Love and I." she shook her head. "Duncan… bless his soul to the Maker, was a hero. But he didn't consider, not once, Love's warning. She told him, actually visited him in the Fade and told him, that I was needed here at the Circle, that something would happen if I left that might shake it to its foundation. He said the Blight was more important than whatever it was. I'm not saying he wasn't right, in a way, but this Tower, no matter what a gilded cage it might be, was my home since I was a baby. He took me away by force when I didn't want to go. Even Irving was reluctant. I… I never wanted this in my life, I never wanted to be a hero. Yet here I am…."

Alistair was silent for a moment, a brief flicker of grief settling over his eyes as Duncan was mentioned, but he squared his shoulders after a deep breath and looked Nyra in the eyes. They were unusually tender to her, right now.

"I understand. Many of those who are conscripted do so because they have no options left, or because they have talents and need 'saving' from their current situation. You fulfilled neither of those, and Duncan still went on with it. But if he hadn't, I would never have met you, and we would never have survived all this. Without you, I would have been dead at Ostagar." He paused. "I'm so grateful you're here, you have no _idea_." He gazed into her eyes, his face soft with something… something Nyra had {ironically enough} never felt before.

Love?

_Oh, well, doesn't THAT just work out wonderfully?_ Love thought, laughing lightly as Nyra felt the feeling for the first time.

_Not the first…_ a voice, not Love, whispered in the back of her mind.

It was in that moment, that little moment, that Nyra actually considered Alistair. He had a kind, handsome face, endearing dimples, bright eyes and short, rough hair that was soft the few times she touched it. He was very athletic, which according to Leliana, was a good trait in a man, and yet he wasn't so overbearing or dominant. He wasn't a chauvinistic pig, and had a chivalry that surprised her at times. He protected her often, occasionally having to stop her from committing too much energy to a spell by draining a bit of mana with his templar abilities, and when she had a question or problem, he did his best to help.

She could picture herself, suddenly, in his embrace, being held underneath the moonlight, his hands on her waist and his face leaning into hers for that amazingly _perfect_ kiss. He would be warm as he always was, and on cold nights she could invite him to keep her… company? Yes, she ventured, he would probably be _very_ warm. And if she was interested, eventually, in losing her virginal state, she could think of hardly anyone better to do it with. He'd be kind, gentle, awkward {his first time} and he'd do everything in his power to make it a wonderful night. He would be compassionate and very, very loving.

So, to take a step or not?

_Don't look down. Just take off and then decide whether you can fly or land on your feet._ Love advised, pushing encouragement towards her.

If _Love_ itself was encouraging her in a relationship, then there was no need to think twice.

"I'm grateful to have you here with me." She said, eyes earnest and a small, different smile on her lips. This one was more secret, more… charming? It certainly seemed to affect the poor man. His eyes lit up and he blushed the color of the sun.

"Well, uh… I'm glad to be here for you." He laughed nervously, but before he could respond, there was a commotion from the Mabari.

They were barking at the doors, which responded with the fizz of spells hitting stone and wood. The templars gathered together, ready to fight, when the group came together, weapons out and ready to fight. Greagoir came forward, great sword out and ready for action.

"If you're going to leave, I suggest doing it now. If they break through, we're all doomed!" he shouted over the noise. Nyra nodded, and Cheryl came forward, daggers out, partially invisible along the grey stone. She and Leliana were stealthing their way along the edge, ready to jump out at any second. The templars opened the door, letting a fireball in, and the gang rushed forward without hesitation.

~*.*~

Meanwhile, Cullen was trapped in a cage of magic, blood boiling and partially under the control of the corrupted mages and demons in the Tower.

They tortured hi mind, kept him locked away for days and days, maybe even weeks, no food, no lyrium, no way out. His mind provided them with enough detail to know _exactly_ what pushed him to the edge, only to fall against the chasm. His training as a templar was only barely enough to dispel them before he lost his mind completely, but they recovered quickly and in moments were back on him, reminding him of his guilt and sin.

He saw only Nyra. Delicate, sweet Nyra, with her frail, beautiful body, and her small, delicate face. Her amethyst eyes were always twinkling, brightening when he came near, and her full, rose petal lips were curved in a soft smile. She would talk with him, tell him she loved him, hold him, do so many things for him and yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, each time, he knew what was coming.

The touch would eventually feel too hot, the fingers too sharp. Her eyes would go darker, until they were completely black with only golden sparks left to distinguish the iris. Her lips would curve into a cruel smile, one with teeth, and when she flipped her radiant hair over her shoulder, horns would appear, wicked and curved. She would walk towards him like a demon, seductive and cruel, and the treatment was different every time. Sometimes, she promised him things in a Nyra-Not-Nyra voice, sometimes tell him how worthless he was. Sometimes, she would say things, _dirty_ things that made his blood boil and his heart heavy, and sometimes she would only hum a demonic little tune, half demon, half her.

When she ran out of words, she could be abusive. She would hit him, rip him, tear into him and devour his emotions. She would rip into his mind and pull more out, ever more information, but she could never find his breaking point, never find out where his control was. When the abuse stopped working, she would start to… Maker, he didn't even want to think about what the Demon Nyra look alike did. Nyra would never, _ever_ do that to him in all the years she would ever live. She was far too innocent to even think of such things, he thought.

And even though she was trying to destroy him, he found solace in that she was the figure they chose. Everything they did only furthered his mindset that _Nyra would never do these things, which means they are demons and only demons_. He never let go of that thought, not for a second, and knew that as long as he kept a picture of the true Nyra in his mind, he could resist their taint, their evil.

But how long would his strength be put to the test?

"I think we're close to the top of the- Dear Maker!"

Cullen looked up in a daze, thinking it yet another trick of the demons. He had had quite enough of them. The leader was, of course, in the form of Nyra, but the others were not so recognizable, save for the one that looked like Wynne.

"Oh, that poor man!" a red haired female demon worried, speaking with an Orlesian accent. She moved to come near him, but he drew his sword, though useless, to bat it away.

"Damn you, demons, why won't you just leave? Stop using her to lure me! It won't work! I am a templar, and I have sworn my duty! You have NO POER OVER ME!" he shouted, pointing to Nyra, and then got on his knees and prayed, prayed with his heart to the Maker that the visions would banish, and he would find one moment of peace. When he opened his eyes, the demons were still there.

And the one that looked like Nyra was glowing softly with a light no demon should posses, right in front of him, in front of the cage.

"Cullen? What happened? What is this thing?" she asked so softly that it _hurt_, it hurt somewhere deep inside of him.

But wait… the demons had never spoken so softly before.

"Are… are you real? This isn't a vision the demons made?" he asked, voice hoarse. Maker, if they were actually _real_.

"Yes, we're real. We came because we needed the Circles assistance. The Grey Wardens need all the aide they can get, and the Circle was… or _is_ in trouble, so we came to free it." Nyra assured him. Oh Makers breath, is she a beautiful sight in the midst of all this darkness…. "How do we get you out?"

"You can't free me." He sighed, wiping a hand across his face. "Uldred's the one holding me prisoner here, to entertain his demons while he works on the mages. They're probably almost all abominations now, under his control."

"I have the Litany of Andralla, we'll be fine. I can free the mages as long as I have Love." She explained her plan, and, even with Cullen's arguments, left him to go upstairs and fight the maleficarum.

Maker, when did she get so brave?

~*.*~

They were losing.

Wynne was frantically reciting the Litany alongside Morrigan, who was a giant spider. Leliana was being cornered by three powerful, too powerful abominations, and the others were tying their best to protect her.

Because Love had disappeared the moment she entered the room.

She tried to cast spell after spell, Blizzard, Firestorm, Rock Fist, but nothing worked against the now gigantic and magically charged ogre that was Uldred. His mind control was starting to turn mages at every corner, causing screams to echo into the chamber until they became a deafening roar. Wynne couldn't even finish her words without having to start over, and Nyra was having problems finishing the Litany as she tried to cast spell after unsuccessful spell.

Morrigan had shifted back to her human form, already out of energy, and was downing lyrium after lyrium potion, trying to restore her mana. Oghren was suffering from heavy wounds, healed only to be opened again by the gigantic fiend. Alistair was getting the brunt of it, forcing himself in between every obstacle, every danger that Nyra would face. But there were so many dangers that some slipped through.

Uldred, laughing, homed in on her as her concentration broke, and started to recite the foul magic that would turn her against her friends, that would make her his blood slave for eternity. She felt her heart drop as if it was made of ice, and felt her veins burn as if they were molten lava. As if they were the veins of a Rage Demon. Leliana and Cheryl were tiring out far too quickly, their health drained from the drug out battle. Sten was losing his finesse as it dragged on, leaving him vulnerable to even more magic attacks.

_Oh where in the name of the Maker are you, Love?_

Before she could focus on the Litany again, she felt Uldred move, using some form of blood magic, some new form unheard of. He simply _disappeared_ into a cloud of blood and tissue, sacrificing three of his abominations, and Nyra didn't know where he drifted off to until it was too late. Alistair whirled around, mouth open in fury and anguish as a shadow loomed over her, causing her to whirl around and-

Get impaled through the chest with Uldred's sickle-like arm.

_NO!_ a voice shouted in her head, seemingly heavy from sleep, and the familiar energy burst forth out of her wound, covering and penetrating Uldred's skin and magic, dispelling his mind control permanently. His abominations froze in a torrent of liquid lyrium, being absorbed into it and leaving behind husks that were once mages, now only corpses. Uldred himself took the longest to cover, and his screams of pain shattered the other crystals, though they left his intact. As they crawled over his face, Nyra felt her body heal itself of its fatal wounds, and knew what she must do. After his entire body was encased, she whirled the other crystals, the broken shards that encased the abominations, around. With a simple snap of her fingers, they all shot into Uldred's body.

And he exploded with all the brilliance of the Maker himself.

* * *

><p>"How do I know it's really you?" Greagoir's voice asked, muffled through the door.<p>

"Because in two seconds, everyone's going to hear about what _you_ did thirty years ago at the First Enchanter Seymour's retirement party. What was it? Something about a dragon, a gryphon, and a naked-,"

"ALRIGHT! Let them in, it's most definitely Irving."

Nyra raised her eyebrows at the older man, who merely shrugged and smiled half heartedly. They walked into the entryway with dozens and dozens of mages, all gathered from the clutches of the demons and blood mages. Uldred had gone down so easy in front of Love that it was barely a challenge at all. The abominations soon followed, and the Circle was suddenly free again.

Everyone felt like celebrating.

Everyone except for Cullen, it seemed.

He had thought that all the mages should face the Right of Annulment, cleansing the area of any magic left in the works. True, mages would have died, but it seemed a better option than letting a possible blood mage free, ready to wreak havoc and mayhem upon Ferelden. Nyra had vehemently refused his pleas, saying that 'she would, again, rather let one maleficarum free than condemn dozens of innocents to death, just for the Chantry's peace of mind.'

He had looked at her with horror until he saw was she had wrought upon Uldred and his willing followers. She gave him a smirk when his jaw dropped and he decided that maybe he should stop worrying. There was no way that a demon could survive that much magic without seriously revealing and harming itself.

She could see, though, that his doubts remained, and his view of mages would forever be clouded.

Irving and Greagoir, pleased with Nyra's work, Promised their aid to the Grey Wardens cause, and offered them shelter for the night. Gladly needing rest, the party settled down on the first floor, alongside mages and templars too tired to do anything else but rest from the peril that had been wrought.

All except for Nyra and Alistair.

They had escaped silently to the edge of the island, looking out into Lake Calenhad. She was holding herself against the chill as Alistair came up to her, no longer in his bloody splint mail, but in his casual clothes instead.

"My, what a lovely evening. Demons and abominations dead, Tower refurbished, and a new host of problems to deal with in the morning. That was fun. Want to do it again?" Alistair joked, smiling charmingly at the mage. She smiled back at him, weary of the day's work.

"Oh, there's many things I want to do, but to do that again, no, I think not." She laughed half heartedly, holding herself against the wind. Alistair came forward, closer, and awkwardly put his arm around her. Seeking the warmth, she automatically curled into him, sighing with content.

"Oh? And what could you possibly want to do that you never have before? See a basilisk? Make your socks come alive? Have you ever wanted to_ lick_ a _lamp post_ in _winter_?" he asked, purring at the last sentence. His eyes were bright and there was definitely an innuendo in the last one.

"Though I've never licked a lamp post in winter, I'd think I'd try it at least once. If I happen to get stuck, I can just ease it off with magic." She giggled, tapping his chest lightly. He chuckled deeply, shaking his head at the thoughts running by.

"So, um…" he didn't know exactly how to word it, she could tell, but she also knew what he meant.

"No, I've never… licked a lamp post in winter. Never had anyone I… wanted to do it with." She glanced up at him, making sure that's what he meant. He looked significantly relieved and yet so _worried_ that it made her flush.

"Well, good. I've heard it's painful, never having done it myself." He joked again, though his throat seemed to close up.

_Look at him, smile, and stare into his eyes!_ Love ordered out of nowhere. When Nyra did as she asked, Alistair reacted slowly, intensely.

His face took on a serious tone, a brooding one, and his eyelids became half shut, his lips partially open. His body seemed to tense around her, and he leaned in close to her ear at first, preparing something to say.

"Maker's _breath_, but you're beautiful." He sighed, and Nyra took the last inch that separated their lips and threw it aside, crashing the soft petals together with the harder ones.

Alistair tasted _good_. He tasted of honey and oak and warmth and like… a man. He tasted like he belonged there, and he _felt_ like he belonged there. His arms wrapped around her smaller, thin body, and she felt just as she pictured, protected and cared for and like she wasn't a mage, or a Warden, and he wasn't an ex-templar or a Warden either, but they were both so incredibly TOUCHING, and-

It ended. The kiss broke off and the feelings, the babbling feelings just stopped. The warmth in the pit of her gut stayed, even as the wind battered at them, forcing them inside. But Alistair's smile, his warm and loving eyes on hers, they felt like they were the only ones in the entire world. And even if not that, at least the entire island.

Nyra felt like she was in love.

But Love herself wasn't convinced. However, she kept that quiet and let the mage enjoy her moment of newfound happiness. After all, happiness was only a fleeting thing.

~*.*~

Cullen, however, was broken at the sight of her kissing another man.

The arms around her weren't _his_, and neither were the lips. He had dreamt it, had been tortured with it, with feelings he had never actually experienced, and yet… the woman they centered around was with another man.

_What the hell did you expect? You're a templar, for Andraste's sake! She is a mage, it was against the rules at the very start, why should it change now?_ He thought bitterly as she walked back inside with… with that _man_.

But still… she never left his mind! Never was there a moment when he could stop thinking of her! she drove into his mind, enchanting and magical in the best of ways, the thought of her comforting him when he thought their cause was lost and mages were all evil anyway. As long as she existed, mages had a light to follow. But… that light, it wasn't even his to claim. She didn't live in the Circle anymore. She was a Warden. She was basically free, while he, he remained.

Cullen, sullen, heartbroken, went back inside as well, barely glancing at the couple in the corner. Barely hearing the sweet nothings he said to her as she fell asleep. Barely inhaled the scent of her flowered, herb based aura. Barely, barely thought of her at all.

Because it was too painful too continue doing it for any longer.

Little did any of them know, that, after all was said, all was done, and the fight was finished, that Nyra herself, the light, the beloved, would be turned towards the very same place.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** Prologue Two has ended, and the next chapter will be the official start of the story! Chapter one! YAY! Reviews feed my hopes and dreams, my friends, so please do review.


	3. Why Does Love Hurt So?

Special thanks also to Selenora, who again reviewed for the last chapter! Thank you kindly!

Don't shoot the messengers; they've come to tell you I don't own the characters or the game.

* * *

><p>"What have you done?"<p>

Those four little words kept playing through Nyra's head as she stumbled into her chambers. The halls seemed to close in around her, the bright castle growing darker with the rage of its new king, with the passing of great men. The darkness seemed to outright blame her, dragging her feet down, forcing her head to hang in sorrow. The castle itself seemed to reject her, refuse her existence.

Like Alistair. Like the man that she could have sworn loved her as much as she loved him.

The Archdemon wasn't going to just up and _die_ on them. Morrigan had offered a way out, a way that none of them would die. A ritual of dark and unknown origins, where, if she lay with a Grey Warden and preformed it over the conception, she would have a child that could absorb the soul of the Old God before it killed the Warden. She expected nothing; she wanted no fame nor claim to the throne. All she seemed to want was to keep Nyra and Cheryl from dying. She said if Alistair wished to throw his life to the pyre, she would happily let him, but she refused to allow Nyra to do so and Cheryl almost as much. The Witch of the Wilds seemed… attached to them. Maybe found a friend. She had confided, after the party had killed Flemeth, that she had never thought to find _sisters_ outside of the Wilds, people who she could actually find joy with. So, her deal was offered. Protect everyone's life and give her a child.

Alistair said no, and Nyra could not convince him. In fact, it seemed to anger him the more she tried. He had been upset when both Cheryl and herself had convinced him to take the throne, a role he never even dreamed of wanting, but he reacted far too violently to the ritual. He even ordered, as king of Ferelden, that the Grey Wardens, being them, stand down and allow _him_ to kill the Archdemon. Effectively killing himself.

Nyra couldn't possibly have allowed that, could she? So she did what had to be done. She, in the last throws of power and pure _love_ she had felt, she summoned forth her entire being and threw it at the Archdemon. Crystal shards, the purest of lyrium, impaled the dragon over and over, each spike taking its toll out of the mage, slowly taking her life. As the final piece, the largest of all the shards descended into the heart of the dragon, she felt her own heart stop, briefly, before she fell back to the ground and wept.

She had not died.

And Alistair seemed to hate her for surviving. For not coming out dead and in pieces unrecognizable. It didn't make sense!

"You… you shouldn't even be alive. I know I didn't perform the ritual with Morrigan, so how in the name of the Maker did you do it? Blood magic?" he had demanded, going on a tirade against her, expecting the worst at every turn, every time she tried to speak. He never even bothered to give her a chance to speak, and every angry and hate filled word cut deep enough to stop her from responding. She couldn't make sense of him or his new feelings.

He had shouted the Grey warden motto at her, what meant everything to them and their cause.

"In death, sacrifice."

She knew she was alive, but why did she feel so dead?

The fallen had been laid to rest and a monument was being worked on night and day in their honor. The dragon's body was supposed to have been burned with the darkspawn corpses, but when the cleanup had come around to it, the body was no longer even made of tissue. The crystals themselves were still lyrium blue, but the dragon was a rare lyrium red. Completely made of crystal, it became a monument of its own. The sight had been horrifically beautiful, reminding everyone of what had transpired, but also reminding them of what they had won. Lyrium seemed to grow in small patches around it, rapidly, and was cleared away nightly. However, the nobles {and the Chantry} had decided that the dragon should be left there as a reminder of what man could achieve, a reminder of what the Grey Wardens did for them. Nyra had used every ounce of power she could access in order to kill the thing, to destroy the Blight, and most everyone seemed to appreciate it. They deemed her the Hero of Ferelden.

Everyone except for… him.

The Chantry had arrived earlier that night, questioning the king and then her companions as to what Nyra's methods had been, how she had cast a spell of such magnitude. They had probably been considering making her Tranquil, but they didn't voice it when her friends had said they didn't know. They left by the end of the evening, but Alistair followed her back to the study she was using to research what few spells she could learn in the time she had. His face had no loving tenderness to it, but a sour backdrop and a hard glint in his eyes. His arms were crossed and he shut the door behind him with a little more force than necessary.

"I don't know what you did to survive, but the Chantry is asking far too many questions already and the Wardens from Orleis? They'll come down to ask how you did it. And _they_ won't take bullshit for an answer. A lot of fingers are about to be pointed, so-," Nyra cut off his seething speech, finding some strength in the reserves of her mind.

"I couldn't just let you die. If you had died, Ferelden would be without a king, and after just recently losing one? I don't think that would have been such a great idea. Oh, and then there would have been one less Ferelden Grey Warden, and the Maker knows we can't afford to lose the ones we have! But wait! These didn't come to my mind until _after_ you yelled at me earlier. The only thing I was thinking as you strode forward, all serious and tough, was 'no, I can't let him die like this', because I loved you! I did it all because I loved you!" she cried out, throwing her hands up in frustration. Her heart was aching again, so hard, beating slow and harshly. Her entire body was shivering from anger, sorrow, and the ice flowing through her veins. Why couldn't there just be an end to this argument, already?

"But how? How did you escape the toll that's placed on every single one of us? What have you done?" he demanded, again. His mouth eyes were disbelieving and full of mistrust. He turned away quickly, grabbing at his hair and cursing under his breath.

"I don't know!" she sobbed, tears spilling over her face. Alistair whirled back around.

"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" he stormed, voice shaking the room. He was yelling, full of anger, full of hate, and it was _all_ directed at her.

She couldn't take it, abandoned by love and Love. The spirit had seemed to quiet down ever since the Archdemon, no longer a presence constantly nagging her, simply a tiny well of power hiding in her mind. Whatever the final blow had done, it had taken too much power from them. Love was in need of a large, long rest. But now? Nyra needed her. Love couldn't hear her silent pleas as everything she had built up, everything she wanted her world to be around fell apart.

She turned to flee the room, desperate to get away from this _stranger_, but she only found Alistair's hand on the door, slamming it shut, and his face merely inches from her own. Before, this would have meant he was about to kiss her, whisper sweet nothings into her ear and make her feel like she was worth something. Now, she felt threatened, felt like he was using his size and power against her in a _very_ wrong way. He glared down at her, into her tear filled eyes, and his jaw set as she quelled underneath the iron gaze.

"Tell me. How did you get away without losing your life?" he ordered, slow and paced. Nyra gazed back, searching for something that told her he was letting up, told her he was regretting it all, told her-

That nothing was there.

She closed her eyes to find something, anything he might accept better than her lack of knowledge. She tried to prod Love into helping, tried to acquire her aide, but upon finding nothing, she knew the truth. She looked him straight in the eyes, tears stopping and heart slowing to an invisible thrum.

"What makes you think I didn't lose something?" she asked softly, pushing him away. He looked about ready to retort as he pushed himself back forward, but she had had enough of this game. She didn't care anymore that it was supposedly Alistair. This wasn't the man she loved. This wasn't the man she promised to never use her magic to harm. She sent out a mind blast, bitter and cold towards him, flinging him against the desk and keeping him away. She opened the door, took one last look at the near empty room, and then shut the door and froze the lock momentarily.

She couldn't, however, escape before a sudden drain in her magic hit her and her breath caught in her throat. Her stomach dropped as her will was drained without warning, and her already dying heart shattered at the realization.

He had _smote_ her!

Love hadn't just remained dormant in her. Love had died.

So here she was, stumbling down the halls, energy and mana drained, slinking into her chambers.

_Have to get away… nothing left for you here. Nothing left for you anywhere_. She told herself, numbly taking her gear and setting it up on the bed. She made sure she had all of her travel things in order, and then started to pack up what little else she had put away. This room had supposedly been made up to be her own, permanent room. She briefly wondered who would receive it upon her escape. She called to Bahamut, her faithful Mabari, who came rushing out of the side room, wide awake and ready to go anywhere.

What's wrong? He whined, butting her hand with his large head. Nyra just shook her head and replied, hollowly, "We're leaving."

They left long after the evening was done, escaping down the balcony with the help of Nyra's magic. The roots and plants twisted themselves into stairs quickly, without any real commitment, and they were off along the side of the castle. The guards were looking for her, though not in a criminal sense. They had received word that Nyra might be in danger, from what they could tell, but she dismissed it immediately. Just the king {not Alistair, not anymore} covering his ass.

Nyra had a spell of reflection, one that would redirect light and shadows around her and Bahamut, should she come across Cheryl or Leliana. If they found her, they wouldn't let her leave alone.

_Just keep walking. Put one foot in front of the other and keep on walking. Live for the next step, and don't you dare let your concentration falter_. She ordered herself, following the path out of Denerim and wondering the roads. She stopped for nearly nothing, save swallowing a bit of water and bread before continuing. When Bahamut needed a rest, she allowed it and went to dig for elf roots and various other ingredients. After she had dug up as many as possible in the area, she had started to make potions, anything she might need or that could prove useful later. She made health poultices and lyrium potions, and dabbled in salves that would protect against elements. Anything that could distract her from the pain.

She had no clue where exactly she was going, only knowing that where ever she went, she hoped it would bring her to the beginning. It would lead her to a solution to the pain. Something to ease away her heart so dead. Something to replace… no, simply fill the void space that Love left behind.

Something to end the Sorrow.

~*.*~

"What do you mean, you don't know how she got out? She lives here, for Maker's sake!" Leliana steamed, glaring at the hallway guard. He squirmed beneath her gaze, shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't know what to tell you, ma'am. I saw her go in, I never saw nor heard nothing to say she got out." He tried to say, but Leliana had had enough of this game. There was something going on that seemed too… secret. Something that Nyra was keeping from everyone else.

"Where could that little girl have gone?" Cheryl muttered under her breath, following closely behind Leliana. The bard shook her head when she had no answer, and they scoured the entire castle for signs of the young mage.

A door with half its lock frozen and broken certainly surprised them.

Leliana withdrew her bow quickly, fitting an arrow and nodding towards Cheryl. The noble woman took out her daggers silently and stealthed along the side of the wall, dashing into the room and doing a quick sweep. No one was in here, but the place looked completely ransacked. The few books that were there were strewn across the floor, and the desk had definitely had a body thrown against it. There was an indent in the middle about the size of a large man. Leliana gasped as she came in, withdrawing her bow and glancing around for anything.

"Someone must have tried to take her, or kill her." Cheryl commented.

"Yes… it looks like her handiwork. She let him get close, backed her up against the door and then threw him across the room. She must have frozen the lock to keep him in." the bard searched with keen eyes to find something, anything to identify the attacker. As she did so, Cheryl checked out the lock. It hadn't been broken before it was frozen, but it had definitely been broken in the attempt to escape.

"What is going on here, hm?"

The two girls whirled around, quite surprised to find Wynne standing there with her hands on her hips, grimacing at the damage.

"Someone tried to kidnap Nyra!" Cheryl explained, gesturing around at the damage.

Wynne looked shocked at first, then immediately went into action.

"Alright, has there been a search party to try to find her within the city?" the two nodded, adding that they were only guards, though. Wynne just nodded. "That's fine. They know the city better than we know it anyways, and they'll be eager to find the Hero of Ferelden, after all… have you spoken with everyone?"

"Morrigan thought she heard a ruckus earlier, but decided it was beneath her to investigate. Oghren was too drunk, Sten was guiltily eating all the sweets he could find, and Zevran was trying to woo some of the guards. Last time we checked, he was trying to… well, let's leave details alone. No one has heard from her lately. She's been holed up, keeping to herself." Cheryl said, holding her head and sighing.

"Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, Alistair is keeping her… occupied?" Wynne suggested with a little wince, and Leliana winced back.

"He was the one who had sent out the search party. They haven't been on friendly terms since she killed the Archdemon."

"Lovely… Just where on earth could she be?"

~*.*~

She was reveling in the death and destruction she had caused.

She had apparently retraced her steps to Lothering, the destroyed and decrepit village just above the Wilds. The darkspawn had completely obliterated it, leaving few buildings standing, much less undamaged. Upon sensing darkspawn, she had taken out her staff and instead of holding her ground, she ran towards them. They seemed shocked as she ripped through them with psychic force, rending them into pieces. She started small fires, here and there, that she used as traps for the larger horde. Once she had everything set up, it looked like she was merely alone, a traveler easily fallen to their dark and bloody desires.

And then she started to laugh.

Spell after spell, potion after potion, she was destroying as many as she could find. She found that, as long as she was killing something, it felt good. She didn't feel anything but the brief and inconsequential physical pains of being struck, only to be healed and blow apart the enemy that caused it. After groups had started to die together, she went after them all, laughing and taunting them on the way. Those who stayed to fight were struck down by lightning, or turned into ice. The ones that ran too far ahead were trapped by fire and roots, entangled in their own armor and soon, their own bodies.

She had told Bahamut to stay behind in the chantry basement, an area no one could get to unless they had magic. She left him food and water and a little escape hole, but she ordered him to stay, and like a good Mabari, he would stay until he felt his masters life leave to the Maker.

She followed the darkspawn into a tunnel, deep within the Wilds, where the taint was almost as thick as blood. The plants were all dying, the animals quiet. The trees were twisted with taint, and the few creatures that remained were Blighted, Blight Wolves and Bereskarn wondering in search of flesh to rip and maim. Corrupted spiders were, well, corrupted spiders, and they only served to help _burn_, shall we say, her desires.

At the base of the tunnel, she discovered a scent she had known before. A coiling, dark, and evil stench.

Broodmother.

She raced down into the depths, setting everything she found useless aflame. The few emissaries she encountered were drained of all their mana by the time they died, burnt to crisps or still tingling from electrocution. When she encountered the main horde, she was so covered from head to toe in spawn blood, that they didn't recognize her for what she was. When the realization hit, she was already in the middle of the room, summoning forth a font of energy so great that it blinded those near her. She started to use her strongest spells, those with pure lyrium crystals, though she couldn't for the life of her explain how she used them without Loves aide. She shot them out towards the massive horde, killing dozens, if not hundreds with each blow.

The broodmother herself was a human kind. She had long, dark hair, tangled up and stuck through with sharp bones. She had the upper body of a human, though the skin was grey and the face looked like a demon's. Her lower half looked strangely like a spider, though the legs happened to be tentacles that stuck into the ground, binding her in place and protecting her. The occasional egg popped out the sides of her overgrown stomach, sliding down a tube to Maker knew where.

But it wouldn't matter in a few seconds, she thought. They'd all be dead anyways.

With a savage cry, she summoned all the crystals around her, forming new ones with each second passing, and started to hurl them in all directions. Where they hit, they exploded with the force of a firestorm, engulfing the darkspawn in lyrium flames. The ones that hit the broodmother took longer, but still, she found herself waiting patiently. She killed the Archdemon. A silly little egg Hatcher wasn't going to keep her from victory any better.

Strike after strike, the brood mother was eventually reduced to nothing more than cinders, a glowing pile of lyrium forming in her wake. The few darkspawn that were alive were damaged in some way, crawling or limping away. She stepped to where the broodmother had been, looked down to the next beneath her, and with a cold and glorious glint in her eyes, she engulfed the entire hatchery in flames and fury. Screams of newly born darkspawn filled her ears, and she relished the feeling.

She had found a pleasing way to pass the time, to fill the void.

Where Love had been, it was just easier to fill it with blood lust.

* * *

><p>Having completed what she had decided to do upon finding Lothering, she took Bahamut out of the chantry and burned the place to the ground. Only taint existed here, and the buildings held nothing but bodies and a few valuable trinkets.<p>

She was suddenly exhausted from her war mongering activities, feeling her body regret the use of so much magic. It had felt great at first, wielding so much and destroying everything with impunity, but her heart felt even worse after the destruction. No one should like to tear things apart _that_ much, even if it's just darkspawn. It's not constructive, though she probably saved the future of Lothering, should it be rebuilt in a decade or so.

She needed a place of solace, a place where she could feel safe from others and herself, somewhere she could find that void filler.

She started walking, not bothering to think on her destination.

All she knew is that she hadn't slept since Denerim, and she needed to head someplace called _home_, because she was about to collapse from exhaustion and the slow pain biting her heart.

~*.*~

Cullen was bored out of his mind.

The mages in the library were all discussing Circle politics again, gingerly avoiding Uldred's old group of radicals, the ones concerned with power. They were carrying on about how the Circle needed new materials, replacements, new blood, and more Enchanters. With Irving being the only real Enchanter there, well, the Circle of Magi in Ferelden must be the laughing stock of the world.

As if anyone cared?

He was standing in his usual spot, over the usual chair, where the occasional person would try to sit for a few minutes before feeling his presence too strongly and leaving.

_She never left_. He tried to stop the thought before it came through, and he gritted his teeth silently as his mind played back a few memories. Though it was true that she had been the highlight of his day, well, many days in a row over the years, she was no longer a part of it.

She was a free mage, a Grey Warden, and the one that destroyed the Archdemon without dying. Though that had been open to _many_ speculating parties, she had done it, and she was a Hero.

_You want her back here._ He thought. Yes, he wanted her back, but wanting did nothing. Just because you wanted something didn't mean you could nor should have it. He was a templar, meant to guard the world from the power of magic by keeping those who could use it in check. He was trained to nullify them and protect them from their own power, and in the name of the Maker, bring them here or kill them trying.

His thoughts kept him so busy that he didn't notice when the room fell quiet.

"Ser Cullen?" Greagoir barked, jarring the red head out of his daze. He stood at attention immediately, staring straight ahead of the Commander.

"Yes sir?" He stammered, breaking out of his daze. Greagoir looked anything but pleased, but there was something akin to worry in his eyes. Cullen was baffled by this until Greagoir crooked his finger.

"To my office." And with that, the Knight Commander left the library as swiftly as he had entered it. He didn't stop or hesitate, and Cullen scrambled after him when he knew to follow. He was right on the Commanders heels when he started to speak again. "As of late, you seem to have been distracted from your duties. Is there and explanation for this?"

"No sir, there is no excuse for my-," Cullen responded dully, but Greagoir stopped as he heard this and rounded on the Knight. He appeared irritated, but still nowhere near anger, merely concerned.

"I did not ask if there was an excuse, Ser Cullen, I asked for an explanation." He gestured into his office, and Cullen nodded his head before stepping in before him. The door, a rare commodity in the Tower, shut behind him. As he turned back, Greagoir had dropped all pretense of irritation and merely looked on the younger templar with concern. "Is it… about the attack?"

Cullen hadn't expected it to take this direction. After the 'attack' had been all done and over with, Greagoir had asked Cullen if he needed some time off and rest, but Cullen had denied it, saying he would be better off getting back to normal routine again. In truth, Cullen had been thinking on the incident often, but what bothered him was something he still couldn't quite explain nor justify. He shouldn't want her back at all, and yet, he couldn't help but feel an over protectiveness for the… _mage_. He was a templar, she was… a mage. A beautiful mage. An enchanting woman, capable of….

Of ripping demons into billions of pieces with a glare.

He wasn't quite sure why that got his heart pumping like it did.

He noticed that Greagoir was awaiting an answer, so he gave a quick "Yes ser." Greagoir nodded, started to ask a question, but then seemed to think better of it.

"I thought it might be better for you to be put back into a normal routine, you know, get you back to something familiar as soon as possible. However, in sight of recent events, maybe you need a better focus? Something to actually direct your attention to?" Greagoir beckoned him to his desk, filing through papers stacked in the corner. "I've been thinking that you should be assigned to-,"

Greagoir didn't get to finish his sentence as an uproar started below them, silencing the area before the templars sprinted into hallway. All the mages were cluttered around the sealed windows, and the templars were glancing at them as they rushed past. One templar was trying to fight the current, heading towards the Commander and Cullen. When he finally reached them, he stopped only briefly to catch his breath.

"Ser Commander, there's a disturbance at the lake! Something is coming over on top of the water!" the boy rushed, face young and pale. He was obviously a recruit stuck on guard duty outside the Tower. He glanced around idly at all the commotion, unused to the layout. New, Cullen thought he was.

"What does it looks like?" Greagoir demanded, a hand on the grip of his sword.

"Well, ser, it, uh, it looks like a corpse… but it's being followed by a Mabari. The dog's getting antsy, and, uhm… we can't really get a good look. Oh, and it's stepping on the water, but ice shoots out?" the recruit recounted, but Cullen got the sense he didn't know much about magic.

"Ice? It's creating ice where it steps?" He questioned incredulously. The young knight simply nodded in despair.

"Everywhere it steps, ice shoots out at its feet in waves. It's already halfway across the lake, and the ice hasn't moved since it was made." He gulped loudly before continuing. "We thought it might be another demon, you know, after-,"

"No more time to waste, we must meet it at the doors. Get Irving." He ordered the recruit. He turned back to Cullen briefly. "Whatever this is, are you up to fight it?"

"It would be my pleasure, Commander."

"Good. Then let's go." He yelled out more orders to any templars within range and headed down the stair case. However, on an empty window, they stopped short to glance at the approaching figure.

All that could be seen from their height was a long, narrow bridge of ice forming its way across the water. Long spikes of… glowing ice were shooting out the sides, growing larger the farther back they were. The Mabari and supposed corpse were still too far away to distinguish characteristics, but the dog was jumping around it, tugging and following. Mabaris knew better than to follow a dead master. They would kill it if it reanimated by demon possession. That was when Cullen came to recall near six months beforehand.

Two Mabari hounds, large and menacing, accompanying the Grey Wardens on their 'visit', and saving, of the circle. One belonged to the Teryn's daughter, Cheryl, and the other…

The other belonged to _her_.

"Ser, consider the possibility that that thing is actually a person. Who do you think it could be?" Cullen asked as they made their way down. Greagoir looked back quickly before answering.

"Who do you think it is?"

"I think it might be… Mage Amell." When he said her name, it seemed a little breathier than it maybe should have been, but Greagoir must have taken that for the running down the stairs.

"If it is her, than there better be an explanation for why she's covered in blood, making her way back to the Tower after she's pretty much free of it, and instead of waiting for the ferryman to get back with the Quartermaster decided to create a large line of _ice_ over the top of the lake to get here." He snorted, reaching the foyer. "A _very_ good explanation will be needed."

"She may have encountered too many darkspawn on the road, Greagoir. Have you thought of that? Maybe she was attacked and requires shelter and aide." Irving questioned as he came down beside them.

"Why wouldn't she wash it off first? Seems like the first thing to do."

"I have a feeling that her reason for being here is of a rather upsetting nature. She killed the Archdemon. Maybe something happened during such a battle that requires magic to fix, no? Maybe something _inside_ was damaged." Irving offered, and Greagoir actually seemed to think for a moment.

"Are you sure it's her?" he paused in front of the gates.

"I recognize that grace, even stumbling, anywhere. She's hurt, and she doesn't know where else to turn." Irving said firmly. Greagoir nodded.

"Go get some rags or something. If that blood is of the darkspawn, then it is taint and cannot be allowed into here. Bring new robes and blankets. I have a feeling she is about to be _very_ cold." Greagoir grunted as he shoved open the doors by himself, leading his men immediately out, swords drawn. Only Irving and, for some odd reason, Anders seemed to be the only mages coming out.

Cullen felt his stomach drop at the sight. He heard multiple gasps as every templar in the area, even the recruits, took in the smell of heavy lyrium. The 'ice' that had formed behind the being was actually raw lyrium, a byproduct of the veil tearing itself apart. Irving stumbled slightly at the edge of Cullen's vision, taking in the sudden magic. They all stood around, dazed for a moment, before Greagoir gained enough sense to dispel all the magic in the area.

Except it didn't work.

The lyrium formed a sort of stair case, reaching up from the sea and connecting the odd pair up to the island. The Mabari raced ahead of the being, whining, running to Irving and barking, trying to tell him something. Irving seemed to understand, and Cullen got something about her acting strangely, being hurt.

When everyone took her in, they gasped. Some cursed at the sight. She was covered from head to toe in dark, dried blood. Some of it had peeled off from moving, but her robes had been stained with it enough to give off a dark, maroon color. Her once starlight hair was clumped and covered in blood, a piece of… something dangling off the end of the long strands. She had let it grow down her back, but that did little to help the situation. Her robes were also covered in gore, and her face was barely recognizable through the splattering of the sinister substance shielding it. The only visible parts were her dim eyes and the tear tracks running down beneath them.

When Greagoir took a battle position, Irving simply batted him away and came forward, ignoring the singing in his veins. Cullen knew that mages reacted hyperactively around such large quantities of lyrium, fueled and ready to cast, even if they were smote in the name of the Maker. The mana would just come back faster.

"You fools, that _is_ darkspawn blood. Even _I_ can smell that from here. The girl must have encountered a small horde." Irving snapped at them, glaring down some of the older ones. "You should be ashamed." He turned back to the girl, who had suddenly stopped about five yards from the group. The Mabari stepped back, whining. "Nyra, child, you have no need to fear any longer. Come, let us-,"

The girl fell back as Irving stepped forward, and it looked like she was suddenly _afraid_ of him. She crawled away from him, suddenly twitching, looking around rapidly for some… escape? Her mouth moved, but nothing came out except soft cries, too small to hear. Cullen's chest felt far too heavy under his armor, weighing him down at the sight. He grabbed a cloth from Anders, dipped it quickly in water, and walking slowly forward. She regarded him with the same fear, crawling even farther back until she hit a gigantic spike of lyrium, about as large as the doors of the Tower themselves. Cullen held his hands up conveying peace before continuing forward.

"I won't hurt you, Nyra." He swore solemnly, kneeling down in front of her, taking the cloth and gently lifting it to her face. She flinched once before letting out a held breath, relaxing slightly. He washed away as much as he could, leaving her face sparkling clear once again.

Except for her eyes. Where they were a bright amethyst before, they were now a dull grey-purple. Red rims around the edges tipped off that she had in fact been crying, and new tears sparkled up as she grimaced and cried softly. Sparkling diamonds seemed to fall down her face, leaving watery tracks behind in their wake.

"What happened to you?" he asked softly, amber eyes gazing into the dulled violet. She tried to speak, but he couldn't hear her soft tone at first. He leaned in closer with a, "Pardon?"

"It… it hurts so… so much…." She gasped quietly, barely above a whisper. She squeezed her eyes shut as her body visibly started to seize in pain, and then she was still.

Unusually still.

Cullen stepped aside near immediately to allow Irving and Anders through.

"Anders?" Irving gestured, and the mage grumbled.

"Yeah yeah, I know what you want." He leaned down, checking her body with a soft, blue glow. After a few seconds, his brow creased and his mouth set stern. Cullen was worried.

"Well? What the hell is wrong with her?" he blurted out, nearly dying from embarrassment as it left his lips. Anders looked up, troubled.

"There's nothing wrong with her actual body. The only thing I felt was her heart. It's like ice has been sitting on it for days. That and every time she breathes, it's ragged, but there isn't an apparent cause. Whatever is wrong, it has something to do with her emotions, not her body." He stepped back, disgruntled and annoyed. "Is that all you needed me for? Or can I leave?"

"You-!" Cullen started, but Irving cut him off.

"You may go, Anders. I know how difficult it is." Anders nodded before dashing off quickly, near frantic to get back in the Tower. Irving turned back to Cullen with a grim look on his face. "Lyrium can bring out the worst in mages in high doses, and Anders knows that better than most. He had no wish to be struck down by templars for something he couldn't control. I've been around the dragon hill longer, so I know how to resist the effects. He didn't."

"Oh."

"Yes, well, in any case, we need to get her cleaned up and inside. She must be freezing out here." Irving beckoned forward some of the female mages, set with blankets and soap. Cullen grimaced slightly and turned to go with the rest of the men. But, as he turned, he felt something draw his gaze back to hers.

She was crying as he left, and his heart seemed to hate him in that moment.

~*.*~

Her heart felt so hollow.

She walked on, refusing to stop for food or water as she made her way onto _home_. She couldn't recognize the paths she knew she had walked before, the trees she had stopped by countless times to collect herbs from. Every step made was one too numb to feel, every breath drawn in felt like the last. Night and day meant nothing neither real nor important to her, just a changing of the light. When she fell, she fumbled back up, refusing to keep down and still for any length of time, never letting herself do anything but _move_.

Her heart felt _far_ too hollow.

Bahamut whined and nipped and scampered around her, fretting over his mistress as she wandered aimlessly, open to attack. She would pat him numbly on the head, murmur something about what a good boy he was, all the while walking forward and keeping her eyes ahead of her, blind and barely noticing of the world around her.

Her heart… she didn't feel it anymore.

Her mind came to a more aware state when she happened upon a small dock with a couple of shacks to the side. There was a large lake before her, spanning too far for the eye to finish, but she recognized the place almost immediately as she saw the silhouette of it against the moonlight.

The Circle. Sanctuary. Safety. _Home_.

She stumbled down the small hill, eyes never wavering from her goal as she tripped over stones and roots. When she came upon the small docking area, only to find it empty, she felt a panic settle in her chest. She had to get to the other side, she just _had_ to. She couldn't wait for the docks man or a templar to come get her; she was too close to just… be stopped. She never made the conscious thought, but, as she stepped down from the wood and at the edge of the water, she decided to do what she had been doing since the start.

Walk.

Her heart's absence made her body grow cold.

She took a step forward, focused completely on the Tower, the need in her so great that her body instantly responded. Crystals of lyrium started to appear beneath her feet, growing with every passing step, every passing breath. They grew out behind her, held fast before her, and they appeared automatically in front of her as she took step by precious step. Her Mabari hound followed behind, still whimpering and scared for his mistress. She thought he heard him worry about demons, but she dismissed it. If demons got in the way, they would be taken down and pushed to the side.

There seemed to be a commotion over on the island as she approached, the windows flickering as mages and templars rushed past them. She dismissed it again. They were busy, that was all. All she needed was one more step, one more breath.

_One more step, one more breath_. She thought, pushing herself forward. Each one, however, seemed to get more painful to take, slowing her down to a near standstill. The ache in her chest became even more unbearable, a pain striking through the numbness. _Am I dying?_

When she finally got to land, she hadn't noticed it until a shock seemed to go through her, forcing her into awareness. Someone had tried to dispel the magic in the area. _Alistair?_ She gasped, silent but wary. That simple act had brought her whole world crashing down, forcing her to feel _everything_ she had shut away on her traveling. She was at the Tower, and there were a LOT of templars with their swords drawn in front of her. Irving, bless him, was waving his way through them, with… someone. Someone she didn't recognize at first.

_"He's here, he's close by… please… have to… find him… or…"_ a voice, not her own, pleaded in the back of her mind. It sounded like her own thoughts, but they didn't feel like she made them.

She suddenly fell back, a presence of _something_ forcing her body to react to things she didn't know. Somebody had taken a step forward and, thinking it was a templar ready to strike her down, she scrambled backwards, ignoring the thoughts and reassurances she was trying to give herself. She only stopped when she noticed it was Irving, speaking soothingly to her. His voice had never felt so welcome, but it was not the voice she wanted to hear. She was looking for _him_, but she didn't know who _he_ was! Half her body seemed not her own.

_Who could I possibly be looking for?_ She thought desperately. Her attention snapped back to Irving as he tried to speak again. She started to shake in response.

"I need to find him." She cried softly, so softly. No one could hear her, and that brought more tears to her eyes until they spilt over. The pain in her chest was reaching a new threshold, and it was so confusing, so much PAIN…

She started slightly as a templar left the group, stepping forward into the soft glow of the lyrium behind her. she had a vision of a sword come crashing down upon her, briefly, before she recognized the young man before her. _It's him_, her _not_-her-own thoughts sighed. The deep timber of his voice permeated the air as he assured her. "I won't hurt you, Nyra."

Ser knight Cullen stepped up to her, face wary and eyes contorted in worry. His red hair was still the same as ever, golden and copper highlights tinting the short locks. His face held a day's stubble already, a slight shadow on his face with a darker emphasis on his upper lips and chin accenting his face and setting off the angles and lines perfectly. He had prominent cheek bones and a strong nose, all that led up to the most striking of all. His eyes had a glow to them in the lyrium light, but they were still the pieces of amber that she remembered, warm and full of a soft, strong light. Those eyes held her gaze as he dipped a cloth into the water beside him, bringing it forward with him. He wiped her face with an unexpected gentleness, and though his face betrayed little other than duty and guard, his eyes still shone with his concern.

"What happened?" he asked softly, his voice shaking her awake once more. She tried to speak, tried to tell him, but only her lips moved. Nothing seemed to come out of them. He leaned in closer to hear her again, and with him he brought that scent, that unique scent. Spices, smoke, a teasing hint of lyrium that was all his own, and a strange… warm scent. Something that reminded her he was a man, and he was, as Leliana would describe, a good specimen. That brought another shake of pain in her… chest? "Pardon?"

"It… it hurts so… so much…." Her voice quivered, then broke off before she could continue to tell him what was wrong, what was not _right_ with her. She hiccupped a sob, shaking from the icy feeling crawling through her. Cullen's face seemed to harden slightly, and his eyes grew large as another wave of pain wracked her body, forcing her still and unbreathing for a moment.

The last thing she remembered was that pair of amber eyes, and the stars crying above her.

* * *

><p>AN Okay, I know a lot of people won't get it, but there _is_ a reason for Alistair's sudden evil. That won't be fully explained for quite a few chapters, but it will be explained nevertheless. Thank you for reading, and please review~! I know a lot of people have been reading, but reviews give me something to look forward to. Give me feedback and I can work from there!


	4. Love: An Explanation and Feeling

I'd like to start out with giving credit for a certain phrase that Zevran has adopted for Nyra to LibraMoon, and their story Rumors. Nyra may not be the best example of a 'deadly sex goddess', but Zevran is a wee bit… erm, hormonal, yes?

I'd like to also state that I don't normally update so soon, nor do I update with such a long chapter, normally. I usually end up doing this when I'm on a roll, and I was on a big one earlier.

Unfortunately, the messengers didn't survive when they told me I didn't own Dragon Age. I cried a river and drowned them all.

* * *

><p>"Zevran?" Cheryl asked as she confronted the Antivan elf.<p>

"Hm?" He responded, apparently busy with mixing very bright yellow bottles of… something.

"Have you any leads yet?" she pressed, waving some of the hair out of her face. She had been searching long and hard for anything that could help.

It had been weeks since Nyra had disappeared, and no one had received word of her yet. No leads, no sightings, _nothing_ had moved forward. Oghren had thought she might be somewhere in the deep roads for some reason, though Cheryl realized later he was too drunk to know they weren't talking about his ex wife. Sten had said he had heard nothing, and that he most likely wouldn't. It wasn't his _role_. Leliana had been gathering information off of the streets, and Wynne had sent a letter to the Tower asking for the templars aide. Using her phylactery might be the only option left, but they didn't want to use it unless it was absolutely dire.

Morrigan had simply run off the moment she heard. No one had heard from her since.

She herself had taken it upon herself to mingle with nobles and find out what she could about any going ons in the Bannorns and the various estates. Nothing had anything to do with mages, and she had spent three hours trying to convince Bann Teagan that she was most definitely _not_ interested in marriage. Alistair had been unusually useless.

Her last resort was in front of her now, cursing as some of the substance in the bottle started to burn through the table.

"As of yet, no, no word of the lovely Nyra Amell. No one has seen her in any villages or encampments, the Dalish have been particularly useless, the dwarves haven't seen her, and we have yet to hear word from Red Cliffe. The bounty on her dropped when Loghain was killed, so no Crows are out to get her. She's proved her abilities as a deadly sex goddess, and they have no intention of testing that now." He reported, cleaning up his poisons and paying full attention to her. "However, I do have one theory as to where she may have gone."

"Oh?"

"I have seen this behavior before, in my… previous line of work. When an animal is severely injured, what does it do?" he questioned, folding his arms and scowling slightly. Cheryl thought about it for a second before replying.

"It normally crawls its way to home and waits to die." Her eyes widened at the implication. "But Nyra was fine!"

"No, no she was not. Something happened after the battle. That 'magic' was far too… unreal. It felt like the world was tearing itself apart, and I am neither mage nor templar. I shouldn't be able to feel those things. She was troubled for some reason, and though she may not have been hurt on the outside, she was not the same Nyra we all know and lust after." He shook his head. "I believe she has done as any injured creature would do. She has gone back to the only safe place she can think of."

"The Tower?" Cheryl asked, eyes rising in disbelief. She knew that Nyra felt the Tower wasn't her home anymore. She had stayed up at night sometimes to talk with her and Leliana about what home was like, and how she was somewhat glad to be gone. The Tower held a rigid and fearful tone at times, and she didn't have to worry about templars anymore. Why would she go back to them willingly?

"I believe so. The lovely Wynne had sent a letter asking for aide, no? Well, we should be receiving a response of whether she is there or not soon. If not, they will track her down. If so, we go, yes?" he flashed a wicked smile, and Cheryl felt an edge of hope.

"I hope you're right, Zevran. I hope you're right." She smiled sadly as she left to inform the others. Zevran's smile darkened into a scowl again as he took in her words.

"In truth, I would rather be wrong. If she left without word to anybody, to return to a place she didn't want to be in, in the first place? I cannot say that eases my heart for her to go back. If she did… then my gut tells me she has done so as many animals have before her." he murmured to himself, returning to his poisons and traps. He had some preparing to do if all should fail.

~*.*~

Morrigan was most displeased.

She had been traveling around in the guise of a wolf for days, though she had little grasp on time in the form. She was tracking Nyra's scent from Denerim through the roads, eventually ending up on top of the crumbling remains of Lothering. When her wolf form grew too tense to continue, she flashed back to her human one.

The city had been tainted all over with a darkspawn massacre. Bodies and burnt remains were littering the streets, and the Chantry seemed to have been burnt down a second time, recently. As she walked through the desecrated corpse of the town, she felt an unease of magic around her.

"'Tis foolishness." She murmured, shaking it off as she continued to follow the trail. It was all too obvious that Nyra had come here to vent off some of her rage, though from what, Morrigan could not tell. There were lightning strikes and burned down bushes, roots coming from the ground and entangling bones of the tainted creatures. A few Bereskarn corpses were still rotting, pierced through by Nyra's unique form of magic. Lyrium Crystals.

Morrigan took out her staff, should she be surprised by any stragglers, but all was far too quite in the forest. The taint was strong the farther in she got, until she came fully upon the Wilds. She knew these trees well, and she could sense something dark and powerful in the ground beneath her.

But there were still only bodies littering the earth around her. nothing had escaped her wrath.

"What rage drove you in there, sister?" Morrigan wondered, leaning down and examining a burned husk of a Hurlock. Or, what she _thought_ was a Hurlock. It was too disfigured to tell, even for a darkspawn.

The Witch of the Wilds braced herself before running swiftly through the tunnels, staying alert for traps and ambushes. However, everywhere she had expected one to be placed, there were already broken traps and a large pile of bodies in the corner. All of them darkspawn. She knew her friend had power, but to be able to take down so many alone? This was starting to bite at her mind in a worrying way. She walked on, no longer fearing an encounter but still keeping wary.

She nearly gasped as she encountered the main chamber. The entire place rivaled the size of Orzamar, with a large, Glowing _thing_ in the middle. She dropped down to investigate further, but what slipped beneath her feet brought her attention to something else.

There were dozens of _layers_ of darkspawn beneath her feet, and they were covered with a thick film of see though lyrium, as if it had been water poured in from the ceiling and frozen forever in small waves.

She gasped as her body reacted to the tainted air, mixed with lyrium dust so thick that it felt like she was swallowing it. She took a rag over her face and, finding it useless, felt it better to turn into something else. She transformed into a spider, immune to the lyrium and taint around her, and picked her way carefully over the legion of crystal covered corpses. The darkspawn all seemed to be facing one direction, running to protect _something_…

She felt her body return to her as she gazed at the thing they were trying to protect. And died trying.

The broodmother looked like it was killed _exactly_ like the Archdemon was. Its body was impaled by so many lyrium crystals that it just _turned_ into a large piece of tainted lyrium, dark purple and vibrating a dark light. The hatchery below it, as she examined, was glowing bright blue, covered in the same lyrium coating that she was standing on. Nyra had spared nothing to chance.

"This much magic should have killed her." she gasped, and though it was new to her, she did not hate the feeling of devotion. She merely hated the feeling that all was lost.

She looked around more carefully, trying to find anything that might give a clue to where she was, when she found a strange trail of… something tickling her nose. Despite her bodies protest, she once again resumed the form of a wolf, shutting down on its instincts and forcing it to recognize the scent. Even under all the lyrium, Nyra's scent remained, faint yes, but still remained.

She followed it to the surface again, to the obliterated Chantry, and then followed it along the road to a path she… she recognized. She changed back again to her human form and collapsed from the exertion her body had gone through the past few days. She pulled a lyrium potion from her pack and a small piece of bread, downing both quickly before getting back up.

She knew where Nyra had gone.

"Oh, why do you go back to the cage you had been free of for so long?" she moaned darkly, walking forward nevertheless.

Apostate or no, she would have to charge the Tower to see if Nyra was alright.

~*.*~

Cullen was angry.  
>It had been three days, and she <em>still<em> hadn't woken up. She had decided to stay still and _perfect_ for three days straight, and it was driving him up the wall. Questions left unanswered raged through his head constantly, worry over why she had been driven here, irritation that temptation was back in his life. Anger at her not being able to answer him, sorrow that she was too ill at health to be able to respond. Things he shouldn't have the right to think or feel swelled into him, and had driven him to watch over her for the entire three days.

Sleep wasn't as important as this. And the recruit brought food for him after it was clear he was not leaving his post. Greagoir had come by once to ask why he wasn't leaving, and Cullen had responded with an agreeable answer.

"She saved my life. It is my duty to watch over her now."

That was the answer he gave everyone, and they all took it at face value. Well, all but Irving. Irving had been about to say something after the knight had told him that, but then the First Enchanter had gotten a look in his eyes that said 'not only do I not believe you, but I know the real reason why you watch over her'. It had briefly unnerved him, but he let it go when Nyra had stirred a little. She hadn't gotten up or awoken, but still, she had moved.

But she hasn't moved since.

They had received a letter from Denerim only days ago, requesting the use of Nyra's phylactery, stating that she might have been kidnapped and the search for her had gone in vain. Apparently, she hadn't left a note or shown a trace of where she was going, and the manner in which she left the estate was as if she had been, or someone had attempted a kidnap. Yet here she was, healthy and yet comatose. They had sent a reply stating she was already here, and there was no need for it. They had dispatched the message with 'all due haste', and hopefully would be hearing back from Denerim within a week or more, possibly even receiving some of her friends or allies.

She looked beautiful as ever, but her body had undergone a slight change, day by day. Her once starlight hair had turned into a silver color not like that of age, but that of armor and swords, cutting through the space it occupied. Where it used to be only long enough to grace her shoulders, it now cascaded down her back in a waterfall of metallic beauty. Her eyes had been open when they set her down in the bed, and when she had closed them, a single tear had escaped her. Cullen had been choked up to realize her once sparkling eyes had turned silver as well, not even a trace of the violet stars remained behind to glimmer under the veil.

She was the same height, the same figure. She might have been a tad bit smaller, overall, but to him she hadn't changed. Her delicate nose, her feather light eyelashes, her heart shaped face and her soft, silent lips were ever graceful, even more so when sleeping. But he wanted her to wake up, to smile, to show that _something_ was alright. If it wasn't, he wanted her to tell him, so he could do something, anything to make it better.

He was so frustrated. But he knew his face betrayed nothing.

He pondered his questions while he stood watch, always vigilant. Why had she come to the Tower in the state she was in? What had hurt so much? Why couldn't Mage Anders heal her? Why did she _have_ to come back? Why did she torment him with such desires? Why was she so beautiful? Why was she so soft a person? Why did she come back? What had made her transform into this destroyed person? What had turned her hair and eyes silver? What about Love? Did she have something to do with all this? Was she dead? Was she dying?

Was Nyra dying?

He shook his head, the only outward sign of his struggles, and he banished his thoughts. He focused on his discipline, his training, to keep his mind clear of anything but her face. After he had seen her throughout the Tower years ago, him sixteen and her fourteen, he had used her face to focus on, to rely upon when he needed control and calm. She had never failed him, and she didn't even know how important she was to him. In this respect, that is.

"Maker, please, for once, hear us and wake her up!" he muttered under his breath, sighing and finally noticing the tray that had been left at the table to his side. He must have been too absorbed in his thoughts to notice when they brought it in.

He grabbed the bread and started to tear into it when he heard a slight cough from below him. A dainty little thing, barely noticeable had he not been waiting for something of the like for days. He dropped the bread and gazed steadily at Nyra for a moment. She was definitely moving, squirming around stiffly and coughing dryly. He took the mug of water they had left him and came forward, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she did, they were shining with a strange light, a metallic silver sheen shooting through them. They widened in recognition before squeezing shut in another bout of coughs. Cullen tilted her back up for support and brought the cup to her lips, which she took shakily and started to sip. As her coughing slowed to a stop and she took in a few shaky breaths, she opened her eyes again and looked around the room.

"Well… this isn't the apprentice quarters." She smiled sadly, looking around and sighing softly. She looked back at Cullen, who was regarding her with a guarded expression. "What is it?"

He found it hard to speak at first, finding no way to put everything that had happened, or all the questions, into a short explanation.

"You… you came to the Tower half dead. Do you not remember any of it?" he asked incredulously, searching her eyes for something, anything to hint at a sinister presence. He found nothing but pain, which answered so many questions and yet presented too many at the same time.

"I… I remember." She shut her mouth into a thin line, gazing down at her hands. Some of her hair fell out of place as she did so, falling before her and into her hands. She gasped, running it through her fingers and pulling more forward, seeming to… examine it? "What happened to my hair?"

"I don't know how it changed color." He admitted, stepping back some and giving her space. She threw the covers off, dashing to the vanity stand in the corner. She stopped, however, halfway to it and looked down. She was in Circle Robes again, the normal kind, and they moved a little differently then she had grown accustomed to.

"Someone changed me?" she asked, a bit of steel in her voice.

"One of the Enchanters, Aria, and he apprentice, Caroline. They helped get the… darkspawn off of you." He coughed a bit in memory, and at the slight indication of her state at that point. She grimaced, delicately biting her lower lip.

"Of course… I forgot that everyone here was at risk… I'm so sorry!" she shook her head. "But, i… I don't know how this all-,"

He had looked away to give her a moment, and at her gasp he flicked his attention back to her, staring in horror at the mirror before her, hands grazing over her face and… her eyes.

"What happened to my _eyes_?" she cried, leaning in and blinking, a lone tear falling onto the wood beneath her. She sobbed once before shaking her head and backing away from it slowly. Cullen stood, warily, waiting for the storm to be unleashed. She was already going through shock, and if she became any more vulnerable, she could-

"Miss! You're awake!" a templar recruit interrupted, nearly dropping his tray of… food? Had Cullen really left the previous one alone for _that_ long? He only had a second to think that before Nyra gasped from surprise and fell to the floor, holding her chest.

"Are you alright?" he asked immediately, rushing to her and helping her up. She glanced up at him, her own face guarded, before she answered.

"No… I'm not. I need to speak with First Enchanter Irving. Immediately." As she said so, her face set into a cold mask, her eyes as still and chilled as actual steel. She busied herself with dusting off her new robes and fixing her hair, and she glanced back at the recruit. "Well?"

"Um…." He stammered, looking around with confusion. This only seemed to anger her.

"If you aren't going to go get him, then I'll find him myself." She snapped, rushing past him. "Move!"

And with that, the templars were left stunned and looking slightly foolish. Cullen waved off the recruit apologies and told him to get back to work as he caught up with the now furious mage. Her temper was radiating from her in waves of chilled air, literally bringing down the temperature around her. Cullen shivered in his armor as it hit him, growing ever the more wary as it intensified. Her face was absolutely livid and her mouth was set into a sharp, flat line. He put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, only to have her whirl around viciously.

"What?" she barked, sending another wave of chill towards him. He shook it off and frowned, dispelling the magic in the area.

"Mage Amell, you would do well to remember yourself." He said evenly, giving her a meaningful look. She paused, glanced around and felt the air between her fingers, still cold from her spell of anger, and she sighed.

"I apologize. I'm… not at my best right now." She grimaced, taking a deep breath and centering herself. She looked back up at him with a somewhat forced smile on her face, eyes a little too hard. "Shall we start over? May you please escort me to First Enchanter Irving?"

Though he didn't like the way she had to make it appear instead of it naturally coming to her, he accepted her smile and gave a nod. "Of course. This way, please." And with that, they were off to Irving's office. However, before they could open the door, they had passed Greagoir's open office and he came rushing out, staring wildly at Nyra and the sudden change in her hair color and eyes. Nyra regarded him respectfully, giving a small nod and curtsy.

"Knight Commander Greagoir. It's been a while." She said, somewhat uneasily as he gazed at her with scrutiny.

"Yes, but perhaps not long enough. What brings you to the Tower again? We thought you would never return, now that you're a Grey Warden. And after killing the Archdemon? Everyone in Ferelden is in your debt." He commented, crossing his arms and frowning.

"Yes, well, I came here hoping to discuss certain… matters with Irving. I'll be doing that in a moment, actually, and it's rather dire that I-," she explained, but Greagoir cut her off with a hand.

"But of course, we shouldn't keep you waiting. Come, we'd love to hear what brought you here in such a state of distress. We will help however we can." He assured her, no room to negotiate in his voice. Her carefully composed face held only a slight trace of annoyance, though Cullen maybe have been the only one to notice it. He had been studying her face for the past three days… maybe too much, it would seem.

"Oh, that's not necessary. This happens to be a magical matter, nothing a templar need get themselves concerned with." She smiled, white teeth flashing up at the Commander. Greagoir smirked right back, gesturing her forward.

"But of course, anything to do with mages concerns the Templars, my dear. Now, if you would please, this urgent matter must be addressed, no? Let us see the First Enchanter." And with that, a note of finality ended all argument as the door opened and he ushered both Nyra and Cullen into the room.

Irving was facing away from them, rearranging books on the back shelf and organizing certain papers into empty ones, to be recorded and put away later. His desk was covered in notices, requests, letters, and various other things. As he turned around to greet them, he froze at the sight of Nyra, awake and somewhat changed from when he had seen her last. Cullen felt her relax almost instantly before she launched herself across the room, embracing him like a long lost father.

"Irving!" she cried, laughing slightly as he chuckled with her, giving her a firm squeeze back before pulling away and looking her over.

"Why child, you have changed. It is so good to see you again." He exclaimed, standing back and looking over to Greagoir and Cullen. "And I see young Cullen is here, ever the vigilant guard, no? But why are you here, Greagoir?"

"Oh, I'm simply here to listen. Apparently, there is an urgent matter that must be discussed with you, something rather important to arrive to the Tower in such a state as she did. I'm rather curious as to what would be so important." Greagoir nodded at her, somewhat mocking in his attitude. She scowled slightly before turning back to Irving, biting her lip.

"Child, what is it?" he asked, casting an annoyed glance at the templars before returning his attentions to her. Cullen felt uncomfortable intruding upon their conversation, but Greagoir himself had insisted. There was nothing to be done about that.

"Well…" she looked back at her audience, suddenly uncomfortable and, after a few seconds without success, she turned to them with another forced smile on her face. "I really don't believe that this is a matter the templars need concern themselves with, gentlemen."

"Oh, but it is. Whatever business the mages have in the circle is something that the templars should know of. I would hate to have been misinformed by others." Greagoir responded, smiling at her. However, Cullen noticed she was losing her patience. The air grew chill again, and Irving shot her a look of incredulity. She dropped the smile and glared at the Commander.

"Enough with the pleasantries, then. As the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, my business here is with the Circle of Magi, and _only_ with the Circle of Magi. Not the Chantry. You have overstepped your bounds, Ser Greagoir, and I demand that you leave at once. This is a matter of great importance that cannot be discussed with any but mages, and if you insist upon being here, than make the decision under your own peril. I will show no mercy should you disobey this direct _ORDER_." She said with absolute command in her voice, a voice she would never have even known to use before she left the Tower.

Greagoir seemed taken aback, and then he became angry. "You will listen here, _mage_, and listen well. You have no-,"

"I have every right to conduct business with or without anyone I wish. And you will listen here, _templar_. I do not come back here as a mage. I came back here as a Grey Warden. I came back here as the one who slayed the Archdemon. I came back here, Ser Knight, as the one who ended the Blight. Not as a mage." She glared at him, and the energy in the air started to crackle. Greagoir rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, but she shook her head in disgust. "And yet, despite coming here as these things, here you stand, seeing me still as only a mage. A threat. Listen closely, then, _Ser_. I came here on a matter of great importance. You are getting in the way of it. That makes _you_ a threat in my eyes. And you are no longer the same kind of threat you may have once been."

"Oh? And what kind of threat am I?" he asked sarcastically as he crossed his arms, tense but aware drawing his sword would do no good. Nyra simply smiled again, this time dangerously.

"Did you know Archdemons can dispel magic just as easily as Templars?" she asked innocently, folding her hands together in front of her. Greagoir's eyes widened, but he shook his head. She smiled even wider. "Well, it tried to dispel my magic. Look what happened to it."

Greagoir paled at the implication, and Cullen froze in his spot. She had basically told them that, if she so desired it, she could get through their templar abilities and ignore them. A mage like _that_ was a hazard to them all.

"Mind you, it would take quite a bit out of me, but I would be happy to oblige should you think yourself ready to fight me on a simple matter of discussing my health with Irving. Simple, yet very important. If you would be so kind as to-," she stopped suddenly, clutching her breast and gasping, falling to the floor and choking for air. Irving came forward immediately, opening her airways with magic and allowing her to breath, though she was in obvious pain. The incident was so sudden that Greagoir didn't seem to take it all in until she was gasping, her fit over and her eyes watering.

"I am to assume that whatever _that_ was, it is what you must discuss?" Greagoir asked, this time humbled, and Nyra simply nodded her teary head. Greagoir sighed, shaking his own. "May I, instead of demanding, ask if I may listen?"

"Yes. I didn't want you to barge in. I simply wanted only those who would care to hear it." She said, her voice suddenly smaller. Cullen compared her now to what she was merely minutes ago, and then it all clicked. She could put up a front of leadership and dominion when she needed, but at the end of the day she was still shy Nyra.

"Of course. My apologies… but I am curious as to the situation." He stood at attention, and Irving helped her into the chair to the side of his desk. Cullen automatically took up his position behind her, and they all looked over to him. He looked back with mild surprise.

"What?" he asked, squirming a little under their steady gazes. Greagoir's gaze seemed to scrutinize his every breath, and Irvings seemed to have a hidden smirk underneath. Nyra herself seemed… thankful?

"And why are you standing behind me, Ser Cullen?" she asked, soft voice the gentle tone he was used to. He smiled on the inside, but kept his face stoic on the outside.

"I am fulfilling my duty." He replied, bowing his head.

"Yes. I had discussed this with him earlier. Should you remain here, we would like to assign Ser Cullen to be your guard." Greagoir supplied, nearly shocking everyone in the room. Including Cullen himself.

"What? I was not made aware of this!" Irving replied indignantly. Greagoir shrugged his shoulders.

"I was planning on telling you when she awoke, and, should she decide that it not be for the best, then he may be removed. However, I would strongly advise it, Mage Amell. Should there be an incident, or should you be unable to defend yourself or get help, Ser Cullen may act accordingly and aide you." Greagoir reasoned, keeping Nyra's eyes. She actually nodded and smiled gracefully.

"Though I am… reluctant to be considered disabled, having a guard might… fill the unease I have on some accounts. I appreciate it. And Cullen?" He looked down at her, still mildly shocked from his sudden assignment.

"Yes?" he breathed out, and though he knew that Nyra and Greagoir wouldn't hear it the way it came out, Irving certainly would. The First Enchanter's eyes tightened, his smile widened.

"I am glad to have someone so capable to escort me. It is an honor." She smiled. "Maybe something good could come out of this for the relationships between mages and templars, no? I hope we could achieve a more equal understanding."

"Of course…." He paused. She cocked her head as he tried to find the words, and when he couldn't, he asked, "Well, what may I…?"

"Call me?" she laughed. He nodded, slightly uncomfortable, and she smiled again. "I'd like it if I could call you Ser Cullen, and you call me Nyra. My first name will do."

"Of course, Miss Nyra." He added the Miss because somehow, just calling her Nyra seemed wrong. Greagoir nodded his approval and Irving scowled a little.

"Back to the matter at hand, child, tell us what is wrong. We shall aide you however we can." Irving pressed, diverting her attention back onto what they had come to discuss.

"Of course…. Where to begin?" she paused, seeming to collect her thoughts. When she had had a moment, she finally started to speak again. "Whatever is said in this room will not leave it without my permission, is this understood gentlemen? What is about to be said is something unknown to many, and only the Wardens and the Chantry have real knowledge of what I am about to speak of. Even those two groups only know a part of it all, the rest they are oblivious to." She got the oath of both the templars and the First Enchanter, and she continued. "Well, I killed the Archdemon with Love's power. Love had told me that… that was the only way to survive the final blow. When a normal person kills the archdemon, it will just possess and transform another body and keep alive. It, being soulless, can go to other soulless creatures and do this. However, when a Grey Warden strikes the final blow, they absorb the creature into themselves, effectively disabling their ability to reincarnate. However, it kills the Warden who delivers it, sending both the Archdemon and the Warden to the Maker.

"Love told me that, with all the power I had with her, we could kill the Archdemon without anyone dying. It was a risk, yes, but I was more likely to survive than anyone else. Alistair…. He had wanted to commit to the kill, but before he could, I interfered. I used a spell from the Fade, a spell long forgotten to most but the oldest of the Fade Children, or benevolent spirits, and I used much of my own and Love's energy. I was able to create raw lyrium… well, you know I automatically do it, though I still don't know how. But I created shards of it, and with those shards, I took a piece of the Archdemon away, blow by blow. Eventually, there was nothing left but life force and lyrium, turned violet by the taint.

"I felt so drained after the battle that… well, I felt like I was dying. Love had just drifted off to some part of my mind that I couldn't even reach, until the past few days occurred. I'll get to that in a moment." She inserted as Greagoir's eyes sparkled with interest. He nodded and she continued on. "I had won, though, and everyone was so happy that I had…. Except for Alistair… he was convinced I had done some form of blood magic to perform a spell of that magnitude, but I hadn't. Love would have killed me instantly if I had tried. So, after a while, I noticed that Love's absence was… leaving holes in me. I felt hollow and my energy never really came back. My magic was still at its peak, but my body couldn't keep up. I felt sick, and… you may have noticed several recent changes to my appearance. Those were not there when I left Denerim.

"Love was just _gone_. I didn't know how to handle it, and eventually… well, Alistair and I had an argument. I… I left to find someplace I might feel welcome, and I just felt dead… afterwards. I didn't know where I was going, but I eventually ended up in Lothering. The place was overrun with darkspawn that had made a nest in the wilds. I killed every single one I found, and I hunted the smaller hordes that got away from me. That, for a time, left me satisfied that I wasn't useless. I'm a Grey Warden; I battle darkspawn as a job. So, I hunted and tracked them down to their lair, found thousands inside the cave dwelling, and I... I used the same power that I used to kill the Archdemon, but on a slightly larger scale.

"There was a broodmother there, a Hurlock hatchery in the deep. I killed her first, and after that, everything seemed a blur. I covered the entire thing in liquid lyrium, which should have solidified into a huge crystalline reservoir by now… keep that in mind for later." She advised Irving, who took down a note at his desk. "and after that, I burned what was left of Lothering to the ground and headed… here. I didn't mean to end up here, but this is where my heart took me, so I followed it. I forgot that I had killed thousands of darkspawn and was covered in their gore… else I might have washed it off, but I was far too delirious to even care. Bahamut was scared I would get possessed, but for some reason the demons stayed away. I didn't even feel a flicker of one, and I thought I was vulnerable. Maybe… maybe I was too dangerous at that point to possess? Well, I got here, and, the rest you know. You found me, I was dying, you cleaned me up and gave me shelter, which I am thankful for, and then I slept for… how long?"

"Three days. Cullen stood watch over you the entire time, refusing to neither leave nor rest." Irving remarked, glancing up at the young templar. He might have blushed had he not been keep his face in check. Nyra glanced up at him slowly, something glimmering in her silvery eyes.

"Thank you." She said, smiling serenely. He put an iron clamp on his face and felt his insides melt. _This is going to be an absolute pain in the NECK._ He thought, nodding at her with a great deal of control. She continued with a small smile on her lips. "Well, I was in the Fade the entire time, speaking with Love. It didn't seem as long as three days, but we had much to discuss… apparently, she was cast out of my body when I killed the Archdemon, and soon I will need to go through something similar to the Harrowing in order to bond with her again. It…. She told me that the entire experience will be different, and that I will remember nothing of what I see. It has something to do with 'knowledge I cannot attain yet', or something of the like."

"Knowledge?" Irving questioned.

"She… she said she made an error when she met me, an error she apologized heavy for, but she never actually mentioned what she did wrong. She said that some things she knows, I cannot. No Human, Elf, Dwarf nor Qunari have the right to know the future. We are not the Maker, and we should not think ourselves Gods. That is basically what it comes down to. She and I need to get back together or…." She grew silent and left the sentence hanging, letting an unease go through the men.

"Or?" Greagoir pushed.

"Or I'll die. Unpleasantly, I might add. My body will slowly become lyrium… over the course of several weeks. Piece by piece." She described, holding her arm to her chest lightly. "I can already feel the process bginning. If I become encased, it will either kill me or… turn me into the worst of abominations. One that can't be stopped?"

"Lovely." Cullen sighed, shaking his head. She looked back with sharp eyes.

"I would rather not be a statue, but I _really_ wouldn't want to be an abomination. And I _would_ like to stay alive, if possible." She commented dryly.

"What do you require?" Irving asked, taking out a sheet of parchemtn and marking the top 'Materials for Harrowing: Nyra 2nd'.

"I will need a couple of the large shards I created outside… and I'll take those down after I'm bonded again with Love." She added. "I'll need I'll need a little Elf root, Bergamot, Silverite, Dragons blood, which I have in my pack, actually. A drake scale, which I have several in my pack, and then a rather peculiar ingredient. I will need an Essence of Taint." She winced. Irving looked up sharply and scrutinized her, and Greagoir looked on suspisciously.

"Why would you need _that_ particular ingredient, Nyra?" Irving demanded. She sighed.

"Because if Love and I bond normally, we'll die sooner than normal, even for a Grey Warden. If we have that, I'll be able to rid myself of the taint that all Grey Wardens possess. Again, you will not speak a word of this to others, is that clear?" she sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Love will actually die if we don't have that ingredient. If we add it, even if I die, she will be able to live on in the Fade. I'd rather that happen, if you please."

"It will take a week to make it. The other ingredients are already in the Tower. The details of the arrangement?" he started a new sheet, and Cullen felt odd. Details?

"Place five large shards, points outward, in a star fashion around the altar. Add a prepared amount of lyrium to the font, like always, and then add the mixture to that. The mixture consists of…" and she started to list the steps, reciting them almost, of how to make the mixture. After that, she told him what to do with the essence. "After I am under, you must pour the essence onto the lyrium font and hope that she and I are bonded before the taint kills us. Think of this like another Harrowing. Should I fail, and if I rise up looking mottled and particularly dead, then please, by all means, strike me down."

Cullen felt a flair of anger as she said it so casually, and he dismissed it after a little tremor went through her body and she gasped slightly.

"I'm okay." She said as the men started to help her. "It happens occasionally, not a big deal. I just need to focus on other things and forget about all this until it needs to be done. If all goes well, this will have been just a bad month. If it goes bad, well, this is my last week to live. I'd like to live it normally."

"Of course. You're technically free, but…." Irving started, and Greagoir nodded as he got it.

"It might be best for you to stay here, where we can monitor and heal you, should something happen within the next week."

"Thank you. Now, I would like to go eat and then take care of some… needs, if you will. I'll be in my room when I'm done." She got up and bid them farewell, but as Cullen was following her, Greagoir called out for them to stop.

"Wait. May I speak with Cullen for a moment, Warden?" he asked, grasping the younger templars arm lightly. She turned back and nodded.

"I'll be in my rooms when you're done." And with that, she left.

"Come with me to my office." He muttered, leaving Irving behind him, smirking. The First Enchanter must have known what was going on.

"Ser, if I might ask-," he tried to speak, but Greagoir interrupted him before he could finish. They barged into his office, and the Commander slammed the door shut. He looked frantic, more panicked then when the Tower had gone under attack.

"This is not what I had had in mind a few days ago, but it will suffice." He shook his head to clear it, and Cullen saw the familiar mask that templars wore slip into place. It was a mask to keep all thoughts and emotion out of their face while they did… what must be done. But Greagoirs mask kept falling off at different intervals… he was slowly losing control. "You will guard her. She is most definitely dangerous, but… no, Nyra isn't reckless. She wouldn't just attack without warning… no… damn it, where is it?" he muttered, seeming to half talk to himself and Cullen at the same time. He searched through the papers on his desk and brought out a letter with the Chantry Seal on it. "I had planned on giving you guard duty to one of the normal Enchanters, to help you through your rough spell, but you are needed with her more than that. Do you understand?"

"I understand that I am to watch her, Ser, but I understand little else at the moment." Cullen frowned, waiting for more. Greagoir groaned into his hands and tossed the letter back on the desk.

"If she dies, especially here at the Circle, do you know what will happen? The entire country will be demanding our heads on a pike and demand that the Chantry releases the mages! Nyra has always been one to charm people into thinking differently about things, and I know from dozens of reports that people are simply not sending their mage children to us. They're purposefully keeping them secret, moving around and away in order to avoid us. Her travels have brought about the idea that the Circle isn't necessary, that Templars don't have to keep the Tower in check!" he barked, pacing behind his desk. "We need something, anything to soothe them, or the Chantry will be facing a _very_ large exodus of its people. I don't know _exactly_ how she did it, but Nyra has riled up a topic best left untouched. One of the few solutions is to show how, if not necessary, _good_ templars can be for the mages. She trusts you and, for some reason, holds a high opinion of you. You are to be her guard and, if the opportunity presents itself…"

Greagoir fell silent for a moment, paling and closing his eyes. He murmured a prayer to the maker and started to take deep breaths. Cullen felt his stomach start to quell under the pressure of _not knowing_.

"If the opportunity presents itself, Ser?"

Greagoir looked him straight in the eyes and said the last thing Cullen had ever, _ever_ expected to hear out of a templars mouth.

"If the opportunity should arise, become her _companion_."

~*.*~

Nyra felt rushed.

She went to the dining room, having found that she was refused at the apprentice's table {"No, you're the Hero of Ferelden! You eat with the Enchanters!"}. She had only been once, and after that she had been conscripted. She had to eat quickly and then go back to her room. She needed time to-

"Miss Amell!"

_Crap, what now?_ She thought as she winced and turned around, smile painted onto her face.

She was presented with a rather measly looking fellow, elven and shorter than most. His brown hair was kept back in a ponytail, and he carried a few books in his arms. She regarded him kindly, and stepped forward.

"Hello, mister…?" she extended her hand to him, and he eagerly shook it.

"Oh, my name is Fathos. I don't actually know my last name, so… yeah. Hehe." He smiled, still shaking her hand. She smiled back, though she wished he would stop shaking so hard. Almost reading her mind, he looked down and immediately pulled back, his cheeks blushing in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… ah, um, I mean…"

"Is there something you needed, friend?" she asked, still kind and curious. He swallowed hard, and he opened his book and rifled to a certain page.

"Um… I'm really, really very sorry to bother you, but, uh, I was wondering if you had ever cast a successful Repulsion Glyph? No matter how hard I try, I can never do it without hurting myself… and no one else in the Tower sees a need for one…." He seemed to cower as he lost his confidence, shuffling around and looking like a lost puppy. _Oh god, why do they have to go and be so adorably shy?_

"Of course I can help you. I'm assuming you're focusing on the Creation school?" she asked, smiling wider when his own face brightened considerably.

"Oh, yes ma'am! And thank you! I've always had a knack for healing, but, well, I never got anything in the school _but_ healing. I have the Protection Glyph right, but I've been practicing this one for weeks, and nothings good has come out of it…" she beckoned him back to the training room, listening to his struggles with the spell. She herself had faced similar struggles, but she found out the best way to perform it.

"Here, with the Repulsion Glyph, you want to focus on the point in front of what you're repulsing. Cast it on that point, or even a little before what is coming at you, and then-," she drew her mana forward and launched a Glyph onto the floor. "You throw it out there and worry about healing your allies."

"Wow! I can't believe you've actually used it in real combat!" he clapped. "Well, actually, you _are_ the Hero of Ferelden, and a Grey Warden, so it shouldn't be that hard to believe… but thank you so much!"

"Of course! Oh, and don't walk over the Glyph until after it disappears. I've made _that_ mistake too." She laughed, waving at him as she left. He immediately began writing something down on his notes, and she waited by the door to see if he could cast one yet. He had the right idea, but he lacked the proper mana control to send it away from him. She sighed wistfully and came back, smiling again.

"Here, lets practice together, alright?"

She felt a swell of pride when she couldn't think of a happier face in the world.

* * *

><p>She was sitting at the Enchanters table now, eating with the rest of the teachers and mages, and she felt something she had missed somewhat on her adventures.<p>

With Morrigan, she had found an unusual and yet exciting friend, someone unlike those in the Circle to connect to. Morrigan taught her the ways of the Wilds, teaching her how to change her shape and to become different animals. She taught Nyra how to stand up for herself as well, and in turn, Nyra gave her something that she had apparently never had before.

Someone who cared deeply for her.

When Morrigan had told her the story of the little girl and the mirror, Nyra had felt like crying. Morrigan had, at some point, just wanted to be a little girl with pretty things. Flemeth had taken that away from her, and never given her real love to nurture on. Nyra made the extra effort to withstand her barbs and sarcastic jokes in order to get closer to her, and when she had, she had cracked through to an entirely new person. The little Morrigan that had been so fascinated by the glittering mirror.

Nyra and Morrigan, after that discovery of friendship, had been near inseparable. Alistair… he hadn't approved, but Nyra insisted that he never would know the real Morrigan, so he shouldn't judge. He left it alone. Morrigan would still tease the other companions, but when she teased Nyra, it had been like a big sister teasing her little sister, meaning nothing by it but to have fun. Nyra gave her someone to confide in and talk to, and eventually, Morrigan had moved her hovel from the edge of the camp to a little ways closer to Nyra's tent. They even stayed up together at some point to play with each other's hair, which Morrigan had said was absolutely stupid at first….

But Nyra had seen the glimmer of happiness in her eyes.

Nyra had made a true friend with Morrigan, despite all the odds.

Wynne had turned into a Motherly figure, guiding her along a right and moral path when she needed it. They weren't close, no, but they understood each other from years spent in the Circle. Wynne had made a bit of home appear on the roads, bringing with her a bit of the Tower she sometimes longed to go back to.

But here? She felt like she was with her people. She knew they thought of her as a great Hero, but they put that aside when they got into their discussions on the best method to train their pupils, or how the proper way to mix an elf root potion was. She felt _normal_.

"No, no, no! That is not the way to cast a Tempest! No, Nyra, tell him how it's done. The simpleton won't listen to reason." One of the Enchanters, Tallin, insisted. Nyra knew Tallin to be in the Primal school, and the mage she was arguing with, Andros, to be in the Entropy school. She smiled lightly.

"To cast a Tempest, sometimes an indirect method is best. First, use your mana to lower the pressure of the air above you. Then, gather electrical particles around that area, combining them with water particles. After you have gathered enough, put the pressure to use and compress them together, forming a cloud-," she was explaining, but he interrupted her.

"You don't _need_ all that, though! You can simply collect the water particles and shoot lightning from your own hand through them to create a tempest!" he argued angrily. She smiled back, maybe a bit thinner than before, but corrected him.

"Yes, but if you do that, you won't kill your enemies. You'll briefly shock them and, if you luckily hit them again, _maybe_ you'll knock them unconscious. If you're in a real battle, you have a group of soldiers of some sort around you to protect you as you cast the steps, and then you create a cloud for control, power, and precision. Otherwise, you'll only end up hurting yourself, others, and barely putting a dent in your foes. Your method works to stun, but the correct method is the one that has absolute results, is that not correct?" she reasoned, and everyone around the table was nodding. Instead of looking indignant, he actually seemed interested.

"Do the same rules apply for a Blizzard?" he asked, going back to eating. The major part of the argument was over, and everyone was eating again, now just sharing their knowledge. She smiled widely.

"The general rules apply, but you don't need electrical particles. Just lower the temperature in the water and add a little wind." And with that, everyone agreed and moved onto herbalism.

* * *

><p>It was another two hours before she got back to her room, but she found she was near exhausted. She closed the door behind her {she was lucky enough to be gifted with one}, and she moved to the vanity in the corner.<p>

She looked nothing like her old self. Her face was the same, but the spirit underneath was changed. Her hair, her starlight hair, had darkened to s dusky silver, and it seemed far too long on her body. Her gleaming silver eyes were clouded and unreadable, and that loss of familiarity hit Nyra hard.

"I… I can't deal with this." She murmured to herself. She looked around for something, anything, and found a dagger lying at the side of her pack, hilt protruding almost invitingly. "That'll work."

She brought it back to the vanity, slid it up to her neck, right below the jaw, measured the right angle, and used as much force as possible to make the cut.

The hair came away easily, as though it welcomed the change. She made hack after hack, cut after cut, until most of her hair had been gathered in her hands and what was left on her head was a short, haggard cut. She put the strands in her fingers into the drawer after tying them up with some leather cords from the side of her pack. She retrieved a brush and started to detangle the mess on her head, drawing it out even and snicking pieces here and there. After she was done, her hair looked a little less messy and a little more natural. It reached just below her jaw line, metallic strands light and wispy from the brushing.

A knock disturbed her from her grooming, and she put the dagger down on the surface of the vanity. She went over to open the door and found Cullen shuffling around a little, looking up and down the hallway. When he noticed her, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

"Hello, Ser Cullen. May I help you?" she asked innocently. Her gentle and guilt free smile widened as he stammered, just like he used to when she was in the Circle before.

"I just… I was looking for you. When you weren't in here, I… I went down to the training rooms because someone had seen you there, but you weren't there, so I went to the apprentice dining room, but you weren't there either, so I… I panicked." He finished lamely, and Nyra laughed, beckoning him into the room. He kept staring at her hair, and then glanced at the vanity. "What are you doing with a blade?" he exclaimed.

She looked at him bemusedly, chuckling. "I battled darkspawn. Sometimes, magic wasn't enough, so I would have to protect myself in close quarters. That, and a knife or dagger is always handy to have when you're traveling. I mainly use it to gather herbs."

"Oh." He didn't seem to know what else to say. However, he was _still_ staring at her hair, and she started to get self conscious.

"Does it look okay?" she primped it, staring worriedly at the mirror. She thought she heard him gulp, but she dismissed it for his nervousness. Where had it all suddenly come from?

"It looks good on you." He commented, seeming to collect himself. She looked back at him.

"Are you okay? You seem a little wound up." She put her dagger and her brush away, beckoning him to sit in one of the chairs around the fire. He obliged, though he seemed somewhat reluctant at first.

"I'm just… it's been a long couple of days." He replied, and Nyra caught on immediately. She bit her lip and winced.

"You've been watching me on all your on duty hours, haven't you?" she looked at him with worry, sitting opposite him.

"I've been watching over you the entire time. I owed it to you to see your safety followed through." He admitted, resting his arms on his knees and relaxing a bit. When she smiled, it seemed to make him feel better.

"Why would you do that for… for me?" she had been about to say 'for a mage', but that would be implicating that templars didn't care, and he obviously cared for some reason. He squirmed a bit, though this time it was from discomfort, not nervousness. All that seemed to have left the room when he sat down and knew she was safe.

"You were so frightened, so… hurt when you got here… I couldn't just _leave_ you all alone. You were frightened of something, so I stood watch to protect you from whatever it was. In sight of today, I realize it was mostly internal, but… It seemed the right thing to do." He finished, relieved to get that off his chest. She was touched by his concern and felt a strong wave of gratitude towards him.

"Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to me that… that someone cared." She fell silent as the memories started to come back to plague her, and she felt desperate to get away from them. Luckily, Cullen interrupted her thoughts with more discussion, safer topics.

"I've never done personal detail before, so I don't know all the ground rules. Greagoir told me the guidelines, but he said the rest was up to you. I've been moved to just next door, in case something is amiss, and I'm to escort you where you go. He also said that he supported the idea of templars and mages working together, but he thought it best to leave that up to you. This is sort of… an experiment, I guess." He explained, and Nyra smiled again.

"If it helps build a stronger relationship with mages and templars, it might be for the best." She smiled, and he smiled back. That smile played havoc with her heart, though, and she didn't quite understand. The moment passed, and they fell into a comfortable silence. The fire was crackling and they just unwound themselves from the long days before, getting used to each other's company.

"If I may ask…." Cullen started, but he cleared his throat and shook his head. Nyra was curious.

"Yes? You can ask me near anything. We'll be in each other's presence often." She assured him, getting up and stoking the fire slightly. She heard him clear his throat a bit and then he asked.

"Earlier, when… when you mentioned the king…. It's none of my business, I know, but… is everything alright?" she stopped what she was doing and even stopped breathing for a second. She honestly didn't know how to respond to that. She sat back down, a tight knot in her throat as she tried to find a way to explain. She glanced at him nervously, questioning the intentions behind it. He seemed genuinely concerned, and templars weren't known for deceit or… bad things.

"The king and I… had a disagreement." She stated rather forcefully, tears coming to her eyes, but refusing to spill over. "I thought he loved me for a time, but we were only caught up in the struggle against… against the darkspawn. He… he made it obvious he no longer wishes for my company, or me." She inhaled deeply and let it out in a little rattle. She looked up sharply as he snorted sarcastically.

"He made it obvious he's an idiot…." He muttered just high enough for her to hear. She couldn't stop the hysterical laugh that came from her lips.

"You… he's the king!" she exclaimed, covering her mouth to prevent further transgressions. It was strange to hear something like _that_ from a templar, much less about a king.

"And he got on the throne _how_?" he asked, raising his hands in exasperation. Nyra laughed before she could stop herself, falling back into the chair and giggling. Cullen snorted and started to chuckle right along with her.

"Well… technically, Cheryl Cousland, one of my companions, got him on there with much prodding… and threats. She told him, 'If you're going to act like a Royal Bastard, you might as well _be_ royal, no?', and he couldn't find an excuse after that." she laughed lightly, her lips curving into a smile. His answering smile was bigger than she was used to, and she noticed that his eyes crinkled and twinkled a dark ocher. Her smile faltered a step, remembering a similar smile….

"Well… you don't have to worry about it anymore, right? You'll breeze through this test, come out with a new trick or two, and you can use your new found status as the Hero of Ferelden to… stir up the country?" he smirked in confusion. She shook her head with a returning smile.

"What would I do? I've been in the Circle my whole life, and now… now that the Blights over, there's not much to do but clean up the occasional horde."

"Well, in the stories, most heroes end up fighting for the rights of the people after they save them from an unmentionable evil." He offered, then looked guilty for a moment before turning his head away.

"Yes, I could… do something to that nature. I feel that if the mages must be watched, make it a way without restricting them to a cage." She stated boldly. She had never uttered her thoughts to a templar before, only to Irving and her companions, but she felt the need to voice her opinions now. Before he could respond, she barreled on. "I mean, consider it. Instead of keeping them all locked up in the Tower, why not assign a templar to them when they pass their Harrowing, or better yet, assign a templar recruit to a mage apprentice, let them bond, and then when the mage passes the Harrowing, send the newly made templar along with them out into the world, somewhere where yes, templars reside close by, but freer then they are now! It would reduce the risks of blood magic experimentation! Many mages today only turn to it because they see no other option to be free, right? And-,"

"Nyra." Cullen interrupted, a little sharper than she had expected. "I think an idea _like_ that would be an excellent possibility, except for certain events that have presented a problem. What about the blood mages who turn to it because they only want power?"

"Hunt them down, then. I have little sympathy for blood mages who use it to further their own ends. That's accepting evil because you _want_ it." She emphasized, making her point on the matter clear. Cullen nodded.

"Well, with only one templar watching them, what would happen next?" he countered. She thought on that unhappily, contemplating the solution.

"Hm… that is a point I have considered, but didn't develop quite yet." She paused with a rueful smile. "Until then, we shall have to agree to disagree, won't we?" her smirk grew wider as Cullen grimaced light heartedly, nodding. She noticed that the dark circles under his eyes were nearing purple, and his body was completely shut down from fatigue, his frame slouched in every possible way. "You've been up for only Maker knows how long… you need some rest. Come one, lets get you to your room before you pass out."

He happily obliged, getting up a little less steady then he maybe planned, and she laughed slightly. She took his arm and walked him through the hall to the room next to it,

"Is this it?" she asked, and he nodded in affirmation. He was too tired to speak, and she felt that somewhat endearing. "Thank you."

"For what?" he grumbled slightly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his arm. He took off one of his gauntlets and crooked it under his arm, letting the other hand worry his face.

"For watching over me. You didn't have to take over the entire time, but… you did it anyways. And for that, I'll always be grateful. You have no idea how much it means to me." She said solemnly, her smile turning sweet and serene. He smiled back, still too tired, but that lazy smile made her unusually happy to see. After a second of silence, however, the smile dropped until his face was dead serious.

"If you ever need help, if something is wrong and you need me, I'll be right here. Don't hesitate to come get me, alright?" he demanded, voice a little slack from his lack of energy, but the burning intention behind them was clear. He was her guardian, and she was his charge.

"Of course, Ser Cullen. I'll come get you if anything is amiss. However, because you have overworked yourself, you need to be tip top shape for your duties. Therefore, I am giving you bed rest until you completely recover. Don't worry, I'll stay in my room and read or something." She scoffed as he started to argue. "Recover and then we can work together to… do something. I'll probably end up training a few of the apprentices on some difficult spells…. But enough of that, you're tired, off to bed with you!"

And with that, she pushed him into the room and watched as he, instead of going to the dresser and changing, simply slumped into the sheets and promptly fell asleep. She went over, used a little telekinetic magic to move him into it comfortably, and with a click of her fingers, the buckles and snaps of his armor undid themselves and she removed the heavy steel with her powers. Left in only a tunic and the lower robes, he looked just as bulky as he did with the armor. She leaned down, tucked him into the covers, and left with a small stroke of his hair.

She couldn't help herself, the hair looked far too soft and the color added a strange texture. It felt like thick down, and she felt her hollow heart tug as he smiled slightly in his sleep.

"Rest, Ser Cullen. We have a world awaiting what we'll do next." She murmured, closing the door and looking to the sky. "Maker…."

_Forgive me._

* * *

><p>AN such a long chapter~! I worked on most of it right after I posted on Sunday, but I've been tweaking it ever since. Reviews are, of course, appreciated and help me learn and adapt! Long chapters like this don't normally happen, but sometimes I just can't break up something this developed without losing something in the process. Next chapter may be up by or on the weekend~!


	5. Fading Love

Wow! I had a lot of views of the story within the past couple of weeks, and I'm so happy that it's catching! This one is for Selenora, my favorite {and only} reviewer. You are much appreciated for helping me continue writing this!

Mild, yet still steamy stuff going on. Mostly dream, but you know how dreams end up happening?... yes, I just teased you. If you're awesome readers, I might just give you what you want. Whatever it is you want, exactly….

Well… A band of templars came to tell me I don't own Dragon Age….

* * *

><p><em>"Looks like this is it." He said to her, drawing close cupping her cheek. She bit her lip and leaned in, a lone tear falling from her cheek.<em>

_"Please… don't… there's still time to do _something_." She begged, taking his hand and pulling it over her heart. He grimaced and shook his head, sending another wave of sorrow through her._

_"It has to be this way. Wardens commit themselves to killing the darkspawn, and the Archdemon. Without us, Ferelden loses its light." He drew closer, until they were toe to toe and her head was tilted up to se into his warm brown eyes._

_"Then why not let me make the final blow?"_

_"Because… the idea of you not existing in this world makes every heartbeat falter and bleed. You _have_ to exist, you have to stay here. Ferelden needs you more than it would ever need me. King or no, I can't give much else but this to my people." He said, a single drop falling from his eyes. "If there was a doubt… if somehow he was wrong, and I survive this… this entire ordeal, I would want to make you my queen, no matter the objections. But… I don't think I will."_

_"But-," she cried, grasping at his armor tightly. He shook his head._

_"I have to, to make it safe for you… all for you." He whispered, tormented eyes gazing into hers._

_He leaned down and took her lips in his own, a warm, passionate kiss echoing through her mind as her heart started to stop._

_And it was never the same afterwards._

* * *

><p>She gasped as pain racked her body and ripped her awake. A scream started its way out, but she immediately clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle it. She blinked past tears as they flowed from her eyes, the pain throbbing and pounding through her with every beating of the hollow organ that was her heart. She slammed her head into the pillow, screaming into it out of necessity and sorrow, broken cries resonating through her ears and her ears only.<p>

The pain had never been so intense before, never so up front and _there_. She was able to think through it, able to just push it aside, but something had set it up, something had pushed it forward into the light, and now she couldn't stop thinking of it. Minutes ticked by as her body emptied itself of tears, as her screams and sobs became hoarse cries for help. Hours came as she tried to calm herself down. When she had settled into a dull throb, back to being in the background instead of constantly _there_, she lifted her head wearily up to face the clock.

She had only been asleep for two hours.

Why wouldn't this leave her? Why did it have to happen to her? Why couldn't he just say he loved her and keep feeling that way? She had no idea what she had done to deserve this much pain, but she knew it was her fault somehow. She had done something to earn the distrust that had created that much hate.

_But what?_ A little voice inside of her asked, prodding away the negative thoughts and bringing the situation to perspective. _Replay the battle, see if you missed something_.

She was fighting the Archdemon… Alistair was there, viciously fighting to protect her. every strike against her enraged him until he fought like a berserker. The Archdemon leapt into the air, flying over to a different area. She continued on, fighting and aiming at the head. It had tried to cleanse her magic, but Love had stopped it. Alistair was right beside her, protecting her from every blow possible. She counted on him to be there, and he didn't disappoint. The Archdemon leapt into the air again, calling for aide. The darkspawn flooded, and yet he still managed to be everywhere at once, protecting her and killing darkspawn after darkspawn. The Archdemon, after sustaining more damage, had weakly flown over to the final battle area, which happened to be in front of the Denerim Castle.

She had brought it to its knees, too weak to continue, but it had yet to be killed. They had but a few moments before it would get up again, and Alistair had stepped forward, grabbed her tightly against him and kissed her until she could hardly breathe. He had whispered the most heartfelt confession of love she had ever heard him say, and then he had taken the great sword from a fallen Guard and charged with a mighty yell.

She had exploded with a firestorm of lyrium crystals, burning and freezing everything at the same time. She had aimed a crystal at the dragon, crippled onto the ground, and she kept pumping it full of lyrium until it gave one final grunt and its life erased from the world, moving to the Fade forever. All that was left in its place was a statue of lyrium, glowing and _huge_, overlooking everything. The dragon had its head upraised in a howl of pain, and the crystals were smooth and near cylindrical. Alistair stared in awe and disbelief, and then… then he had gotten dark.

The change had happened right after she had killed the Archdemon, but she couldn't tell _why_.

_I can't figure this out without Love, so… I need to distract myself._ She thought, getting up and dressing in her new Circle outfit. She had the robes of an Enchanter now, no longer necessary to be just a mage. She slipped on her shoes and quietly padded her way to the door. She paused as she said she would stay in her room to Cullen, but she shook it away. She would be gone only long enough to borrow a book from the library.

She made her way down the steps, nodding to the templars she passed. As she passed Greagoir's office, he noticed her and called out. She entered the office and smiled weakly at him. He looked tired, but he was filling out papers and gazing curiously at her.

"Is something amiss, Mage Amell? Cullen is not with you." He noticed, glancing behind her. She shook her head.

"Just going to the library to find something to read. Cullen's been on duty for far too long, so I made sure he got some rest. Don't worry, I'll be back in my room when I find something to read." She smiled, attempting to turn away, but he called again.

"Wait. I was wanting to bring something to your attention that I hadn't mentioned earlier. In the moment, I must have forgotten." She turned back and awaited his news. He looked uncomfortable for a moment, licking his lips and filing through some papers in the top corner of his desk. "We received something that rather worried us, about a day after you had arrived."

He pulled out a letter, opening the envelope and tossing it aside. Nyra glanced at the seal on it and started to pale. Greagoir, however, was looking at the letter and didn't notice.

"We received a letter from Denerim requesting the use of your phylactery. Apparently, your companions at the palace were concerned you had been kidnapped. According to this, the study you had been using before the battle was ransacked and your friends saw it as an attempt on either your life or your capture. They have been desperately trying to find you, and they only wanted to use this as a last resort. Do you have an explanation?" he asked with a raised brow. Nyra closed her eyes, a brief fit of pain racking her body and stopping her breath, and after it had passed merely seconds later, she responded.

"I had not meant to worry my friends, but I had left rather suddenly. I had to get to the Circle, or else… I'm not sure. I just had to get to the Circle." She lied, holding her chest as it throbbed. Greagoir understood, nodding his head.

"My apologies… though, that wouldn't explain why you went the long way around, through Lothering." He gazed at her eyes, curious and yet not wanting to offend. She creased her forehead and pretended to think of a solution.

"I was disoriented for much of the journey. I remember the violence that took place in Lothering and the Wilds because my magic had made me active at that point. The rest, I was barely conscious." She sighed, clenching her chest. In reality, it wasn't hurting nearly as much as she put off, but if it fooled Greagoir….

"Then we shall tell them you are safe and that you had dire medical need of the Tower's assistance, yes?" he took out a new sheet of parchment, and she nodded gratefully.

"I wouldn't want them to worry anymore than possible." She smiled sadly, and he nodded. He was writing again when he stopped and cursed lightly. "What is it?"

"I forgot, we already sent a letter to Denerim to report you were here and safe, but you were comatose. We sent it on a speed runner, so you're friends have either already gotten it, or will about to receive it and most likely make their way here." Nyra paled a bit as she thought of that possibility. Who would be coming?

"Did the king send the letter himself?" she asked, her voice even and without inflection.

"No, it was definitely Wynne's handwriting."

She exhaled slightly, relieved. Out of all the people that would know best the situation she was in, it might be Wynne. However, if she did come, she would give Nyra the lecture over how she was right, and that her love life would end in tragedy because-

"I'll be in the library briefly, then. If you need anything, I will either be there, or in my room." She smiled, her heart pumping far too loudly. The pain was building its way back, and she had no intention of letting anyone see how much more it could do to her. Greagoir nodded, tossed the half written sheet of parchment away, and then continued with the other papers on his desk.

She hurriedly walked into the library room, stopped in the middle of it and looked around. She saw no templars, no apprentices studying. It was four in the morning now, and she hadn't honestly expected anyone, but… there was always someone around. That someone happened to be her tonight. She made her way over shelf by shelf, going through herbalism and healing magicks to see if there could possibly be anything in them to help her. She tried a few of the healing spells she found, but none of them worked like she had hoped. They could heal a physical symptom, but they could not heal something caused by emotional pain, turning physical.

Nothing she found worked. There was no way to heal the pain of one's heart in an emotional sense. The only way to heal the pain was to se-

A glint in the corner of the room caught her eye.

She went over to investigate, finding a rather strangely attractive book. The spine itself had brass clips in two places, one near the bottom, and one near the top. As she slid the book from the shelf, she found that the entire front of the book was covered in a shined brass plate, the title etched in and engraved with runes and other various charms. "Tranquility, an Alternative".

She opened the book, knowing from the color of the pages that it had never been open much, but was indeed old. The spine was so stiff that she had to wiggle the cover and the back a bit to loosen it. As she read about the definition of the Tranquil, she found out things she had never thought to come across, and never thought to be interested to know.

First off, Tranquil were forever cut off from magic because the connection to the Fade was burned out of their skulls. She knew that. Secondly, they felt nothing and were basically shells, no longer true people. She thought she knew that. However, Tranquility was offered as a permanent way to keep a dangerous mage from being possessed, to ease a mentally compromised person, magical or not, and finally as a last resort method to use when one could not tolerate pain of loss, and would otherwise die. If said person was afraid of death, then this was the final option.

There were arguments and counter arguments about whether they still possessed their soul, if it was irreversible, and speculation on what it would feel like to be a Tranquil, one who actually doesn't feel. Some Mages stated their cases better than others, and some Tranquil had even written pieces to put in. One piece caught her attention and held her mesmerized for what seemed like hours.

_Tranquility is not an abomination. Tranquility is not a horror. Tranquility is peace from the never ending torment I had suffered as a mage. Demons can reach me no longer, and I am free to live a simple and productive life. I have purpose and value, and I am still human. I help the Tower, and even the Circle in general, by crafting Runes and Enchanting objects to help the Circle earn its wealth. I feel no suffering, no distaste, and I harbor no feelings of ill will towards those who made me so. Tranquility, as it is named, is a tranquil existence. I no longer have difficult emotions and painful guilt, and I have found a calling in my work. I am no abomination, nor will I ever be. I am no horror, nor will I ever be. I am a Tranquil, and I have achieved peace._

She stared at those words over and over, memorizing them by heart until the sun started to peak out from the windows. She glanced up, meeting the sunrise with a soft smile of her own, and put the book back on its shelf in the proper place. She had found, in the statement of that one Tranquil, a solution to a problem.

She was not incapable of love. She was not a freak. She was a person, and she was free of her responsibility to the thing that caused her pain. He could no longer reach into her heart and twist it around like he had done after the battle, and she was free here in the Tower to live a simple and productive life. She had a purpose here, and her knowledge of the world had great value to mages locked away for most of their lives. She could help the Tower, or even the Circle, by rallying them not into rebellion, but into calling for a more individual guarding. In this work, she wouldn't find pain, and she didn't have to keep onto her love, her sorrow, and her wants. She no longer had to hold onto any of that, and she had finally found her true calling. She was not incapable of love, and she would never be. She was not a freak, and she would never be. She was a person, and she has achieved a purpose.

She repeated her new found courage and hopes over and over again in her head, passing templars with a smile on her face, a soft, serene smile that she had been known for. Yes, she was the Hero of Ferelden. But, maybe back home, she could also be the same old Nyra Amell.

Maybe, just maybe, she could move on.

~*.*~

_Sunlight streamed down on him as he stood by the window of his room. The curtains had been taken down earlier, leaving the space open and full of a golden light. He had taken off his armor in favor of a tunic and leather pants, allowing himself to relax off duty. He was gazing at the beautiful image that was presented before him of Lake Calenhad._

_He heard a small knock on the door, and then it opened softly before closing with a gentle click. He didn't bother to turn around. He knew who it was._

_A slender pair of arms snaked themselves around his waist, and a petite body pressed itself against his back, sighing and relaxing against him. He smirked slightly, turning around and gazing down at the beauty before him, yet again._

_Her eyes were violet with a silver haze, as if they were now the very night sky, and the silver specks represented thousands of far off lights. Her golden hair had tinted silver highlights, growing back down to her collarbone and wisping up in curls that seemed to reach to her face. Her cherub nose and her rosy cheeks wrinkled cutely as she giggled, and her delicate lips opened to allow that soft music its escape._

"_I finally found you." She giggled, laying her head against his chest. He chuckled, stroking her downy hair and planting a light kiss on her head._

"_Were you looking for me?" he wondered, smiling as she nodded against him._

"_For the longest time. You, mister, told me you were going to be waiting in Greagoir's office after you signed all the papers." She pulled back slightly, scolding him playfully and tapping a finger to his nose._

"_Well, I had a few things to take care of first…." Cullen stroked her nose affectionately, and went to his corner table. He came back with a bouquet of wildflowers and lilies, which he knew were Nyra's favorite. Her eyes lit up at them and she smiled widely._

"_You picked out flowers for me? Oh… that was so sweet?" she cooed, taking them and inhaling deeply. For a moment she looked lost in the happiness, until he smirked and she set the flowers to the side, reaching up and pecking him on the lips. "Thank you for being so thoughtful."_

_He kissed her back with a little more pressure. "Of course." He kissed her again, this time a little longer, and when he pulled back, he smiled as she followed his lips. "Ah ah ah."_

"_Oh? Are we not past all of this hesitant response?" she teased, but a glimmer of worry flitted across her eyes, and he smiled happily._

"_Oh no, I just wanted to say something before I decided I couldn't resist anymore." He winked, and then slid his arms around her waist._

"_And what would that be?" she asked, relaxing into his embrace and cocking her head in curiosity._

_He leaned down until he was by her ear and brushed his lips against it, his breath swirling around it as he murmured, "I love you."_

_She gave a small gasp before wrapping her arms around his neck as he captured her into a long, steady kiss. At first, it started out with a gentle pressure, but soon it was turning into something more passionate, more _raw_. They molded their lips together for a few seconds, it seemed, until Cullen felt a thrill as she shyly slipped her tongue over his lips, and soon they were entangling themselves in a battle of taste, a skirmish he was determined to win. He shuffled her to the bed and groaned softly as she pulled him down over her. There were no anxious feelings, none of the reservations he thought he would have as he pressed himself against her. She wrapped her leg around one of his, pulling him ever closer, but when a whimper escaped her, he pulled back a bit to see what was wrong. He never thought he would see what he _did_ right then._

_She was panting slightly, her hair messed up just a tad, and her eyes were glazed with a mix of pleasure and irritation. He smirked widely, cocking a brow and attempted to ask what was wrong. She pulled in a shaky breath before she spoke two words, two little words that made his blood sing with fever._

"_Clothes. _OFF_." She half commanded, half whined… maybe even moaned a little._

_He gazed at her lustfully, eyes trailing down her body. He smiled as he started to take off his tunic, and when it was off she-_

* * *

><p>Cullen awoke with a start. His heart was pounding so hard, it felt like it was going to burst through his chest at any given moment. Tantalizing images and sounds ran through his mind, making his body ache and shiver, hot yet cold at the same time. He took a shaky breath to try to calm himself down, only to notice there was a problem with his…. er, <em>state<em>.

"Makers breath, _that_ went too far…." He gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as his erratic heart called for more of… whatever that was. His body was weighed down with drenched clothing, a heat flushing its way-

Wait. He looked down at himself, realizing he was only in a tunic and lower robe, not quite sure how he had gotten his armor off to begin with. He spotted it resting neatly next to his bed, further confirming he hadn't done it himself. He always set it next to the water basin in the corner, to shoulder on right after his morning routines. _Nyra?_ He thought. No, she wasn't physically strong enough to lift the plates, or so one would think. _She is a mage_, he reminded himself, something he knew he should definitely do more often. She had tucked him into bed, it seemed, though most of the covers had been thrown off.

Well… the feelings were all there…

* * *

><p>"Should the opportunity arise, become her companion."<p>

Cullen's jaw had gone slack and he had stared in disbelief at the Commander, who looked like the most grave and serious man in existence at that moment. His heart had thumped so slow he felt it ready to die, though he was unsure whether it was a thumping of anticipation or dread. He felt his hopes rise up before him, only to crush them down before they became too large.

"You mean to travel with her even outside of the Tower?" he reiterated, forcing his face back into control. The moment it was, his back started to get tense. Greagoir sighed and still looked solemn, though there was something in his eyes… Cullen couldn't identify.

"No, Ser Cullen, I am asking you to win her confidence as a guardian first, and then get close to her as _humanly possible_." Cullen still looked blank, feigning ignorance. Greagoir sighed in frustration. "Intimately!" He noticed Cullen's flinch and the look that came across his face, and he seemed to interpret it as a sign of horror, because his Commander had basically asked him to break his vows, his vows to the Maker, with a _mage_. Cullen may have been a bit horrified that it was his Commander telling him to, not someone else, but he felt shocked and hopeful more than fearful. "I know it isn't _ideal_, but we have to gain her trust and try to influence her as much as possible. Friendship is one thing, but an… intimate involvement is another completely."

"You… you want to have me use her, then?"

"You are the only one who can get that close to her. And… yes, I suppose you could call it 'using' her. I won't lie, this isn't what I want. If I could just find something else to occupy her time, or try different tactics to resolve her, then I would. But sometimes, one must sacrifice themselves for the greater good." He looked back at Cullen, coming forward and grasping his shoulders. "I know it is a lot to ask, especially with what you went through during the attack… but I need you to do this. The Chantry needs you. In the name of the Maker, will you undertake this task?"

Cullen felt like time had temporarily stopped, one of those moments where you were given nearly infinite amounts of time in only a few seconds. He considered what would be best for everyone, and what would be best for them. He knew he had no intentions of hurting her. He knew he was already emotionally compromised. He thought this might be a test. He thought he might fail. He didn't know exactly what the Chantry's, or Greagoir's for that matter, motives were. He knew he had absolutely _no_ experience in the matter of wooing, and he was far too unsure to give a steady answer.

"Yes, Ser." He responded a few seconds later.

Maker help him, he was going to die _very_ unhappy if this didn't end well.

* * *

><p>He shook his head, getting up sluggishly and shucking off his damp clothing. He looked from afar at his reflection in the mirror, frowning slightly at the loss of muscle. He hadn't eaten much, and he had slept so little that his body must have gone on with his reserves. He'd have to work at it, but he was unsure how with his new routine. He walked to the mirror, noticing that the dark Circles were nearly gone and that his face held substantially more stubble than before. He took his razor and started his morning ritual, shaving most of it off and leaving just a tad around his mouth, having practiced the movements countless times. He washed his hair to get some of the slick out of it, and took some of the herbs he had found outside the Tower to freshen up a bit.<p>

He put on a new pair of small clothing and a new set of armor-less clothing. He put the shining metal on slowly and grunted at the unwelcome weight. Yes, he would have to fix that rather _soon_, or he wouldn't be much of a guard.

He stretched a little bit inside, buckled his new broadsword and made his way to the door. He remembered that he lived next to Nyra now, and as he made his way to her door, he heard a ruckus. Bahamut, her Mabari, was whining at the door, pawing at the ground and trying to get in without damaging anything. Cullen stepped forward and got down on his knee.

"What's wrong, boy?" he asked, and the Mabari just whimpered on and on, refusing to make much sense. Cullen wasn't used to Mabari communication, so all he was able to get was 'Crying' and 'Pain'. He got up, knocked lightly on the door, dread filling his stomach. He heard shuffling sounds inside before the door pushed open slightly.

Nyra was sucking her finger, bright healing magic tingling at the tips. She bit her lip a bit as the pain left, and she noticed her faithful Mabari first.

"Well, maybe you should have waited with me for breakfast! Then you wouldn't have been stuck outside here while I fix up my clothing!" she scolded, patting him sharply on the head. "You only think about your stomach.

Cullen actually felt sorry for the Mabari as it lowered its head, like a child caught doing something it shouldn't. Nyra sighed before petting him and stepping back, allowing Bahamut to immediately sniff around the room for the offending pair of scissors. He barked at it, growled a couple of times, and then went to stand behind his mistress's heel. Nyra looked up at Cullen in apology.

"Sorry. I was changing my wardrobe up a bit, and mister piggy back here decided to eat beforehand. I got distracted by his pawing." She glanced over her shoulder, indicating both the dog and her robes. They looked remarkably colorful and slightly… shaped? He nodded, shrugging.

"I don't understand Mabari like I wish I did, but all I got was that you were in pain and crying." He bowed his head. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Oh, about half a day. I was surprised you didn't sleep longer, actually. Do you feel rested?" she asked, concern tinting her gaze. She leaned forward, a healing aura engulfing her fingers. He tensed slightly and she winced, apologizing yet again. "I'm sorry, I'm used to making sure my companions are feeling well. If not, I give them a little boost of energy."

_Companions_.

"No, I'm fine, but thank you." He nearly stammered, but he kept his tongue in check. She frowned for a moment before smiling.

"Well then, good… afternoon? Oh dear, I've been at it longer than I expected." She glanced back. "I'll just clean that up and we can… do something today? I'm not exactly sure what to do at the moment, coming back to Circle life with a different role. Come on in." She beckoned, cleaning up the scraps of fabric. "Irving suggested I might take on an apprentice, but I asked if I could merely help some of the mages here first. Many of them are lacking knowledge I feel they should have if they're going to specialize correctly, and Irving actually agreed! He said the Circle has lost too much talent in the past years, and since I'm the closest specialist, he's given me the job."

"Wait, I thought you specialized in Creation?" Cullen interjected, confused. She smiled unhappily.

"Everyone assumed that, since I was the delicate and petite flower of the Circle, of course I would go into Creation. However… I actually had multiple specializations. I have even more now." She smiled. Cullen raised a brow, silently asking. With an uneasy smile, she started to list them off. "Creation I mastered here, along with Entropy and Primal. I finished Spirit right when I left the Tower, and I gained the powers of a Spirit Healer when Love and I bonded a little more. Then, out in Ferelden, I found a few… other schools. Some forgotten, some not taught here. If Irving approves, I'll most likely be teaching them here."

"And what are _those_ schools of magic?" he pressed, suspicion creeping under his voice. She bit her lip, shaking her head slightly as she recognized it.

"Well… Morrigan, one of my friends who's sanctioned by the Wardens, she taught me Shape shifting, turning into animals and such. It wasn't all that hard to learn, really, just let go and feel the nature around you sort of thing. Then, when I met a few of the… mages from Kirkwall, I learned of a specialization known mainly in the Free Marches as Force magic. I mastered that with one of them travelling alongside us, graciously teaching me while we offered them safe passage back to the edge of the Free Marches. Then, when I went to get aide from the Dalish clans, I encountered a vial of trapped essence in the ruins, a spirit long forgotten. When I freed it so it could pass into the Fade, it passed along its memories and skills. Technically, I can use my magic as real physical strength, but I chose to focus it on my finesse. I'm as skilled with a sword as Greagoir or Duncan, but I really prefer sticking to my magic. It's called the Arcane Warrior specialization, and it died out centuries ago. I want to, if I can, resurrect it so that when mages are called upon to fight, they can do more than just cast, but actually participate in battle. That, and teaching the specialization grants a large immunity to spirits of the Fade ever possessing you. Demons are actually fearful of it because you could actually walk right out of them, should they try it. That would leave them stuck in between here and the Fade, nonexistent until a soul wanders in the exact spot they were left." She paused to catch her breath a bit, having finished putting away her materials and clothes.

"Irving would never let you teach that or the Shape Shifting… and the Force mages sound a little… much for our Circle." He warned, and she actually _laughed_ at him.

"Shape Shifting isn't supposed to be easy. I doubt many would find the appeal to it. Arcane Warriors have partial immunity to possession, and Irving will jump on that faster than anything else. Even Greagoir would consider it, I think. And the Force mages? All they really do is a larger scale of telekinesis. It's not even as powerful as some of the Primal spells I have." She paused. "The only specialization I can't teach is… unique to me. My crystal magic is something I haven't been able to teach Morrigan or Wynne, though they both have asked. It had to do with love touching me, and even though she's gone right now, I can still use it."

"That's what you used to kill the Archdemon?"

'Yes, that's what I used…." She left it off, eyes glazing over as she lost herself to a memory. He stared at her the entire time, awaiting her to come back, and when she did, she startled him with her sudden speed. "On to the dining room!"

And with that, she ran through the doors, laughing the entire way.

Her room seemed to perforate magic from its every corner. She had been doing something else in here other then sewing….

~*.*~

Nyra liked her choice in robes.

She had been practicing her Crystal Arcana in her room, summoning gemstones and various other crystals for enchanting and magical jewelry. She had found a book on it in her pack, probably provided by Bodahn. His son loved enchanting things, and she had smiled at the memory. She was able to make the necklace she was wearing now out of everything she had summoned, first acquiring the stones, and then forming the crystal lyrium around it, hardening it and making it take on a metallic effect. She took the next few hours, however, to spin the chain of metal that hooked it to her neck. Those were a LOT harder to do, but they were pretty durable… possibly indestructible? She'd have to test that later.

After the jewelry, she had decided to take a normal routine, relaxing and taking spare, colorful fabrics and sewing them off and onto her robes, adjusting here and there. The one she was wearing now had an upside down V on the legs, and it only reached to about a few inches above her ankles near the back. She had cut the chest piece off, allowing her skin to breathe and her necklace to be seen. She then took off the entire right sleeve, making it into a separate piece to be worn and hooked on later. She embellished them with lacey fabrics, looking very much like the sleeves the Desire demons wore, but with a lighter touch, not as tainted. The left sleeve, still attached, had various charms woven into it, sparkling with magic, and her right sleeve, shorter than the first, had a lighter material attached so she could swing her staff, sword, or arm to cast magic and strike with. She cut the material off the stomach and put a sheer replacement over that, giving the entire ensemble the image of fading. She called it her Fade Robes.

And they turned heads.

Cullen was right behind her, occasionally staring at her with a curious expression. She smiled back sweetly in response, and he would straighten up, making it look like he never even looked. She giggled lightly at the antics. When she had turned back to her room to try one of her new robes on, he had waited outside for her, saying he would be back in a few moments. She agreed and put on the new outfit, fixing up a few minor details, and when he came back, whistling, she stepped out and closed the door. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared. _Stared_. She never thought it would feel so good to wear what she wanted.

When they arrived at the dining hall, in time for lunch, everyone stopped talking to see what she was wearing, and who she was with. It was Tallin, the Enchanter that had begged for her input the previous night, who made the first comment.

"Well well, look who stepped out of the Fade and into our world! Those are quite the robes your wearing." She smirked, a twinkle set in her eyes as she patted the seat next to her. Nyra smiled and sat down beside her, accepting the glass of juice one of the mages offered her.

"The standard robes… leave too much to be desired. I wanted a little change, and I didn't have any of my robes from my travels here, so I made do with what I had." She smiled, sipping the goblet quietly. Tallin chuckled slightly.

"Darling, I do believe you just started a new fashion amongst mages, then, with what you 'made do with'. I'll have to petition to allow a little variety in our robes, then. I've always wanted to try my hand at making clothes I can actually wear. Before, I just made quilts and such for the winter." She shared, passing a plate to Nyra. She thanked her and kept listening. "It has been too much the same for too long here. Change might be good."

"Tallin." One of the Enchanters warned, glancing around quickly at the templars. "You should watch what you say."

"What? Am I inciting a rebellion because I want a little change in what I wear day in and day out? No. Change is a loose term, Karol. I meant it harmlessly, nothing more." She defended, but Nyra couldn't help but notice that she seemed to put emphasis on her last words, projecting it a little more towards the end of the room, where the templars stood guard.

"Still… be careful." Karol whispered, lowering her head and eating quietly. That effectively silenced the group. Nyra frowned, looking back to a now brooding Tallin, and found something that would possibly cheer her up.

"Hey, Tallin? What did you say you specialized in?"

"What? Oh, um, I specialized in Primal, of course." She gave a pointed glare at Andros, who merely shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. Nyra thought through her head, fishing around. From what she knew of Tallin, she was a somewhat rebellious figure, though the Circle had certainly strained that down a few notches.

"How do you feel about animals?" she asked, nibbling at her bread and sipping her soup. Tallin put her full attention on Nyra now, curiosity glimmering in her eyes.

"I love them. I had wanted a pet when I passed my Harrowing, but pets aren't allowed in the tower. I've always been fascinated by them." Nyra prodded her on, asking what she liked specifically about them. "Well… I know it might sound silly, but I've always felt a certain connection to them. My magic focuses on more natural aspects of the School, and I feel a kind of connection to animals, especially those on land. Why is it you ask?"

"Well, I have a few interesting things to teach you. With Irving's permission, of course, I would like to fill in some of the blanks that the Circle seems to be drawing these days. Everyone's either running out of stuff to do or study, or they can't perform certain spells right. I've learned many different new Schools on my journeys, and one of them happens to be Shape Shifting. Turning into animals of the forest and such." Tallin's eyes lit up the moment she said 'shape shifting'.

"It's not for everyone, certainly, and it takes great amounts of focus and will to master it, but I believe you to be a kindred spirit in that you feel greatly towards nature. I can help you achieve it, if you wish." Nyra offered, and Tallin looked shocked for a moment. When she recovered, she was smiling happily, shaking Nyra's hand.

"Oh, that would be wonderful! I had run dry of anything left in Primal, and I have always wanted something like this! You won't regret it!" she exclaimed, beaming. Nyra smiled back at her and they continued eating, chatting about the basics behind the School. Soon, everyone was asking questions, and only Tallin seemed interested in actually trying it. The rest were content observing for the moment.

And later, some of them had decided observing was a little risky itself… when Nyra turned into a wolf the size of a Mabari.

~*.*~

"Oh Maker, that was more exhausting than I thought it would be." Cheryl panted, dragging the large buck into the camp on her back. Leliana frowned and helped her set it down, pushing her to the ground and examining her foot.

"I told you to keep it bound! And I also believe I told you _I_ would go hunting." She scolded softly, grabbing the bandages from the tent and wrapping Cheryl's ankle again.

"Well, forgive me for trying to feed us, and for not bringing more food, and for going ahead recklessly, and for- THE LOVE OF THE MAKER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" she yelled as Leliana jerked the foot around a bit, sending shooting pains up her entire body.

"I'm setting it properly. First aid, Cher, remember?"

"I remember first aid being, oh, I don't know, unnecessary when we had three mages with healing spells around us?" she snapped, gingerly putting up the foot on a nearby stump. The bard simply smiled and moved over to the deer, flipping out her knife and skillfully preparing it. She had already set up some drying racks of sticks for the hunt she was going to take herself, but being unnecessary now, she put the strips she cut onto it, saving them for travel.

"Where is the old bat again and why isn't she fixing my leg?" Cheryl complained, and Leliana laughed.

"She's out digging up more herbs. She knows this area well, and she planned on getting some of the rarer ones she'll need for poultices and various salves later. She came back when you were gone, but she went back out not but ten minutes ago." She said, humming afterwards and carving into the beast.

"Hm… what do you think Nyra's doing right now, if she's awake? Do you think she's okay?" Cheryl asked, gazing up at the stars and flicking a stone out into the trees. Leliana stopped humming and looked back at her.

"I believe that she is safe in Love's hands now, and whether that be awake or asleep, she will make it through whatever happened. I just hope that when we arrive, she'll be awake to tell us what exactly went on. Not many people end up disappearing in the middle of the night after they become recognized as a Hero." She said carefully, picking out what little she could from what was left. She went to go bury the innards and then left the hide out on a tree to the side of the camp, farther away.

"Yeah… it better be a good reason."

"Oh, I believe it will have to be. Wynne is… irritated."

They both winced and tried to think of more pleasant topics than the old woman's rage.

* * *

><p>AN And… yeah, that's it. Review please~! Reviews inspire me to write more, and more writing is more awesomeness for you. Thank you kindly, and remember, Nyra is a 'Deadly Sex Goddess'.


	6. Lyrium and Love, Not In That Order

I'm so happy that this story is getting more attention now than ever, and I can't believe how many countries it's in! thank you, my loyal readers!

Um… that band of templars, from last chapter? I blasted them with a fireball. They didn't stand a chance. I was upset over the fact that I didn't own Dragon Age.

* * *

><p>Cullen was fascinated, just as he was somewhat perturbed.<p>

He did his duty as a guard, shadowing her footsteps as she roamed the halls during the day, perching in a corner as she taught her lessons to the other mages in the Circle. She was his main focus, leaving others as possible threats, not to protect but to be wary of. Her guarding was a requirement now, so he _had_ to pay attention to her, had to observe her… and he had to, eventually, woo her- How in the name of the Maker does one _woo_?... But back to the point, he couldn't look away. Her new robes left very little left to be imagined, and his mind contemplated things he wasn't even sure existed. There was a reason, he guessed, why the mages robes weren't flattering in colors. Templars had enough to deal with and didn't need… temptations.

She had been teaching Tallin the Shape Shifter specialization, along with a large group of observers. Irving had come to see what the fuss was all about and gave his consent, perching right next to Greagoir. The Commander looked to Cullen briefly, nodding in recognition.

When she had turned into a spider, briefly, it had shocked nearly everyone and sent them flying out of the room. Realizing her mistake, she flashed back to human and called them in, laughing nervously the entire time. Of course, everyone else assumed she was laughing like it was a joke. Only Cullen could distinguish the discomfort lacing the edges. From what he had seen in the moment, the spider seemed different from the large, vicious creatures he had encountered on mage hunts. She had been white and blue, lyrium crystals jutting out at the joints of the spiders legs, on its back in a sort of spiky fur, and over her teeth. She had, and he couldn't believe he was saying it, but she had looked _elegant_.

The next creature, however, was simply stunning.

She announced that she was going to turn into a wolf, to make sure the mages didn't run, and reassured them that she would be in complete control, no need to fear. When they all nodded, she flashed once more, getting lower to the ground and a howl broke from the glowing mass. Soon, a snow white wolf with flowing, magical white fur was standing before them. Her glittering violet eyes gazed back softly and majestically, and her forehead gleamed as the lyrium horn started to sparkle, along with the crystals on the joints and the claws. Her fangs, two of them jutting just below her jaw line, were glowing the same blue, and her large and seemingly fluffy tail was actually, upon closer inspection, thousands of flowing lyrium crystals, soft yet solid. A miracle of magic.

She was too much to be considered a wolf.

Strangely enough, she could still talk through her forms. "Now, my animal forms are affected greatly by my connection to the Fade, where I am actually a partner, or more host, to a spirit of Love. She was one of the First of the Fade children, a spirit embodying one of our virtues. Because of her power, my magic has enhanced itself, and I have learned a unique branch of crystalline magic. When I change into animals, unlike most mages, I can still use magic."

She demonstrated this by howling, causing the lyrium crystals to glow and a healing aura to surround her and the group. Everyone gave a short gasp, and Greagoir shifted uncomfortably. Cullen felt the soothing tendrils reach him, but they suddenly pulled back as the wolf gave a pained high pitched whine. She fell to the ground briefly before getting back up and shaking herself.

"Don't worry; I just forgot that sometimes things shift a little differently. It takes a few tries to move your new body successfully. Just a cramp." She explained, though the sound was more pained then Cullen felt was necessary for a cramp. She continued on with the lesson, still in wolf form, and everyone went back to what they were doing.

Cullen started to feel uneasy when she explained the power behind the new forms, stating that a mage turned wolf could take out ten wolves easily, all the magic packed in and fueling the muscles and reflexes. In her forms, since she had so much raw lyrium power, she could take down hundreds of darkspawn easily, and she had done so before. Greagoir was frowning at this, and the templar in the corner shook his head in disbelief. Every time she changed shape, either to instruct or to give an example, he felt as if she had brought a piece of the Fade into the room. Irving was smiling, though there was an edge, and the rest of the mages seemed oblivious to the power.

Tallin seemed to be the only one actually wanting to change her shape, and the rest watched warily as she tried the first, simple form. A mouse.

She didn't flash or change shape. Nyra told her she might need more practice or study of the theory first.

Cullen noticed that it was pitch black night outside the singular window, but he didn't know how to tell his charge that. Irving, too, glanced out the window and gave a short, loud cough. Nyra, in the middle of demonstrating mana control to the audience, looked up sharply, slightly breathless with the effort she was giving, and then looked in the direction that Irving silently tipped his head. When she noticed the late hour, she gave a gasp and stumbled back into standing position, wiping her hands off on a nearby rag.

"It would seem I kept us a little bit _too_ long, so, um… class dismissed. We can pick this up tomorrow before lunch, and hopefully get to a greater explanation on the difference between mammals and insects!" She smiled nervously, her face a little flustered. She was clearly embarrassed as the students rubbed their eyes and yawned, just now realizing what time it was. Her hair was wild and fanning, and even though it was cut shorter, it still looked eerily similar to the hair she had in his dream…

"I thoroughly enjoyed that lesson, child. It's peculiar that such an art was lost, but now that you've come back with it, we can incorporate it as an advanced magic lesson. I think only Harrowed mages should try it, but still, the possibilities!" he exclaimed, patting her shoulder and starting a small lecture on her form and her teaching methods. Cullen could tell it was going to be a long evening…

"Cullen? May I have a word?" Greagoir called from the other side of the room, and the knight raised a brow in Nyra's direction, receiving a nod for permission. He walked over to the Commander and stood at attention.

"Yes Ser?"

"We need to make progress. Fast." Greagoir whispered fiercely, glancing at the talking mages. "She has a week left, before she returns to the spirit. If she doesn't make it, we will face a rebellion. They'll think we killed her."

"What? What would you have me do Ser?" Cullen asked, bewildered.

"Start becoming as friendly as possible, and… woo her!" he snapped back, casting nervous glances around. Cullen started to grimace at that.

"Ser… I don't know _how_ to win a woman's affection." Greagoir sighed at this and pinched the bridge of his nose and sent a prayer to the Maker.

"Oh, why couldn't you have lost your virginity in a brothel like all the other recruits…" he muttered, and Cullen frowned. The Commander coughed and continued. "Okay… um… give her especially warm greetings, smile in her presence more, if something's wrong, ask. Get close to her, but not overbearingly… er… damn, I can't remember all the little things, but be a solid presence in her life. Reassure her that if something, anything goes wrong, she can come to you and you can help. You can be there for her. I have a feeling she'll need that most of all. Then, for lunch… someday, take her to the Harrowing Chamber and open all the windows. _That_ should make her happy."

"How do you know all this, Ser?" Cullen asked, cocking his head. Greagoir coughed.

"That is a story for another time… however, Irving seems to be done, so we were discussing your detail and seeing how it's gone so far. Understood? Just go with gut feelings, and press forward, but don't alienate her. That's the last thing we need." He nodded formally, then turned to leave. As if on cue, Nyra came up from behind him and frowned as she looked after Greagoir joining with Irving and going up to their floor.

"What was that about?" she piqued curiously, subconsciously rubbing her hands together. Cullen shook his head and tried the smile he had in the dream.

"Nothing, just asking about my new duties, seeing if everything has gone well." Bowed his head, making an attempt at charming. _Just follow what you did in that dream, but tone it down. That was too intimate for this…_

She seemed taken aback at first by his casual smirk, but soon she blushed lightly, tinting her pale face and throwing her silver hair over eyes. She wasn't, however, smiling.

"Well, has it gone well so far?" she asked distractedly, barely looking up to see his nod.

"I would say it has so far. No one's tried to kill you yet, and you've managed to give Greagoir something to chew over for awhile." He chuckled, and she looked up at him strangely.

"Well, I guess I have to keep him on his toes, don't I?" she smiled thinly, her voice distant and contemplating. Cullen smiled again, and gestured her to the door.

"After you, Miss Nyra." He said smoothly, still following his dream's guidelines. She took a barely noticeable gulp before stepping in front of him and moving onwards.

He took a little happiness from that.

~*.*~

Cullen was acting differently, and she didn't know why it made her flush so strangely.

She had finished talking to Irving about the basics of Shape Shifting, explaining the intricate details of the muscles and tissue that would grow and replace, or shrink and toughen in certain animal forms. When he left her for the night, she went over to Cullen to leave, and she noticed a sudden change in him

He smiled a strange half smile, half smirk at her, amber eyes twinkling lightly, expression bemused. It… it poked something inside of her, but she couldn't recognize what it was. She couldn't remember ever feeling it before.

He had laughed in front of her, too. _Laughed_. Templars didn't laugh in front of a mage unless they were going to _kill_ them. Or, that's what most mages thought of them. But still, he had laughed, and he had smiled, and he had… he had….

He had been a complete and utter gentleman.

Templars didn't show chivalry towards mages. Templars didn't open doors for them, or go into idle banter about magic with them. Templars didn't smile or look at them like _that_, nor did they ever truly interact with mages at all. They were never kind, simply doing their duty, and they were never looking at them with a special interest.

Templars just didn't _do_ that!

When they got to their rooms, he saw her off to hers first.

"Tomorrow you have a full day, yes?" he asked politely, face gentle and with a small smile gracing his lips. His stubble from the day had grown in darkly, shading him harshly in contrast to the torch's light.

"Yes, I have to get up at a normal time, eat, and get ready for the lesson. It might take all day again, but hopefully they learn something they can use…. Or Tallin can use, at any rate." She huffed, and a small lock of hair fell over her face. She brushed a bit to the side, but when she left the other strand too close to her eye, Cullen did something… something _very_ strange.

_He brushed it behind her ear_!

"Good night, Miss Nyra. I shall see you bright and early tomorrow." He smiled charmingly, backing away with a bow and turning to his door. When it shut behind him, she found herself still standing there.

She stayed frozen on the spot, feeling strange warmth flashing across her cheek. When she could move again, she stumbled into the room blindly, hand feeling her cheek where he had brushed the stray hair away. Bahamut looked up from the pile of rags he called his nest, and gave a soft whine in question. She looked at him in a daze and smiled painfully.

"I think I'm going crazy." She whispered breathlessly, unclipping her necklace and setting it on the side table.

As she got ready for bed with the knight still starring in her thoughts, she couldn't help but to wonder more about the knight. His strangely pleasing smirk warming her cheeks, those eyes… those amber eyes glinting and crackling in the light of the torches, gentle, warm, patient…. As she put on her nightgown, she felt like she should be blushing at the thoughts, but she didn't know why.

"What's wrong with me?" she murmured as she climbed into her bed, dimming the light until she was surrounded by darkness, the stars and the moon yielding just enough light to make out the shadows of the room.

* * *

><p><em>Nyra was on her bed, wearing her Fade Robes, and absorbing the sunlight streaming through the curtain-less window. She had tried to open it, but the window itself was sealed with magic. Bahamut had decided to raid the kitchen for lunch when she said she just wanted a nap, and now she lay here, soaking in the sun and dreaming lazy day dreams. She was tired, and she was aching from all the active magic she had been teaching.<em>

_With her eyes still closed, she heard the door open and close gently to the side of her. she heard some chinking of armor and straps, and then a small thunk as it was placed to the floor. A few seconds after that, she felt the bed tip and sink to her right. She felt a large, broad shouldered body situate itself next to her, making little noise. She kept her eyes closed as the body's arm draped itself over her waist, and a lightly scruffy face pressed its lips lightly on her cheek._

"_I love you." The man murmured fervently into her ear. He stroked her hair, which seemed to be longer than she thought, and he hummed to her, thinking she was still asleep. She played along for a moment, curling into him and keeping her breathing slow and steady. She 'woke up' slowly, blinking her eyes open and sighing._

"_I love you too." She smiled peacefully, pecking him on his cheek._

_~*.*~_

_"I love you too." She whispered back to him, kissing his cheek. He chuckled a bit and took her into his arms. She snuggled up to him, warm and bright, and he couldn't help the sigh of content that escaped his lips._

_Cullen couldn't help but feel happy here._

_"Stop being so handsome…." She sighed, reaching up and brushing her finger tips along his jaw, feeling the slight prickles there. He smirked back, that smile she seemed to love so much, and he brushed his lips along hers._

_"Stop being so beautiful… no, I forgot; that's impossible, isn't it?" he laughed, cupping her cheek and crinkling his eyes. She sighed happily, a serene smile gracing her lips, tucking her head into his chest._

_"I wish…" she fell silent for a moment before speaking up again, muffled by his tunic. "I wish we didn't have to keep this a secret."_

"_We have certain obligations to accomplish before we can let it out. Don't worry, I have faith in _us_." He smiled, rubbing her back a little. She gazed back up at him with worry, biting her lower lip._

"_What if Greagoir finds out?" It's only a matter of time before _somebody_ finds out. Irving probably already knows, I see the way he looks at us, and Tallin keeps trying to get me to tell her who in the Circle I'm interested in. It's like everyone can see-," she cut herself off, taking in a deep breath before meeting his solemn eyes._

"_They won't find out. We've been careful." He whispered, lifting her chin up and placing a kiss on her nose._

"_But… but was if they _do_, and they… they disapprove so highly, accuse me of blood magic… what if they make me Tranquil?"She near sobbed, shaking delicately. Cullen embraced her again, holding her small frame against his tightly._

"_They will never take you from me. _Never_." He seethed, voice full of such conviction and iron will that she couldn't find an argument around it. There was no point. He spoke the truth, forever and always. She smiled again through her drying tears, and he brushed them away with his lips. "Sh…."_

"_How did we get this far? How did the mage and the templar come together?" she asked, distant as she ran her fingers through his hair, placed soft kisses on his neck. Cullen laughed, stroking her face with the tips of his fingers, watching her violet eyes glint in the sunlight. Her silver and gold hair shimmered in the light, surrounding her in glowing warmth comparable to magic itself._

"_Well, let's see. The templar watched over the mage ever since he was but a recruit, and she was just an apprentice. He watched her for so long that he started to feel things, things no templar is supposed to feel for a mage. When she went through her Harrowing, he felt tugs at his heart, though he didn't understand why. When she left, it felt dull, grey, and colder in the Tower than it had been before. When he was captured against his will by demons, tormented with sins and the thought of failure, he was kept sane by the thought of her, which in of itself was so pure that it kept the demons at bay. She came back to the Tower, saved him, and then left again to fight the Blight. When she was gone, the templar didn't honestly know what to do with himself. Life was dull and aching, and he _still_ didn't know why. When she came back, broken… he fell for her so hard… he finally decided what to do. He swore himself to her protection, to her life… and to hope that he could return the kindness and love she had shown him and others." He kissed her sweetly, smiling with as much love as he could show. "And now, he counts his blessings that such a star ever bothered to bless him, yet again."_

"_A star?" she mused, her lips curling into a rueful smile._

"_The brightest."_

"_Well then, Ser, I do believe I should keep burning bright. I have people counting on me to find their way, and my knight in shining armor needs his light." She whispered, kissing his jaw softly. He chuckled quietly, before going out into a full laugh and jumping off the bed, picking her up and sliding her off with him. She gasped and giggled as he swung her around setting her right next to the door, rushing up to her and picking her up in his arms yet again, giving as much passion in his kiss as he could muster. After a few seconds had passed, he stopped, lips maybe a bit swollen, and pecked her neck as she clung to him._

"_Knight in shining armor actually came to see if you wanted to get some lunch, but he became distracted." He smirked again, the smirk she liked._

"_And what was such a distraction, Ser? I do hope it was worth the time." She tittered back, strapping her dagger to her waist. A sparkling light shone off of the ruby red hilt, vast gems and lyrium crystals glinting off from the sun and casting li-_

~*.*~

Nyra gasped, jerking up to a rose red sunrise shining through her windows, casting the room in a pink glow. Her breath was labored, her body covered in a cold sweat. She threw her blankets off, feeling a strange stiffness in her legs, and she got up slowly, near painfully, and stumbled over to the vanity. She checked her eyes and her hair, which seemed to glow even brighter, though they were still liquid silver. The savage hair cut she had done, though evened out, was growing in furls and wisps, giving her hair a strange floating appearance.

She felt a tear drop down her cheek as she remembered what she had dreamed about. Dim flashes, a light coming through the window. Her, stretched along the bed and dozing off, and a warm body, such a warm body….

And that painful, killing thought of love, sweetness, a tender hand….

She fell to the floor gasping as pain wracked her body, knowing what was happening. Little pieces of lyrium were slowly protruding from her left arm, coming out in small spines at the edge of her forearms. Her heart was beating so slowly, so struggling that she couldn't breathe, could only gasp and flail around as the crystals continued to grow. She felt as if she were being torn into by a darkspawn, being eaten alive by the sharp, tainted teeth, but the magical glow and power coming from her arm reminded her what was really happening. She was being consumed by the Fade, returning to what she was as a child. Without that magical training as an infant, it hadn't been nearly as dangerous. Now, being a near master of magic, it tore into her greedily, seeking to either destroy her or turn her into… something else.

Her breath came back in forcefully, and she sent a cry of pain out as blood started to drip down her hand.

~*.*~

Cullen awoke from his dream, surrounded by warmth and filled with a fuzzy, floating feeling. The dream he had, though it should have made him feel guilty, elated him instead. He didn't need to reprimand himself for feeling those things anymore, and he could feel as much as he wanted for the mage. That dream had been far better than the one before, starting off at a good pace and showing him how to finally win her over. He could focus on that, even today.

He climbed out of bed for his morning routine, a quick dabbing of herbal water on his body and a slim shave, leaving behind just a bit of facial hair on his lip and chin. He washed his face, took his lyrium, and started to put on his armor. He had his tunic and his lower robes on when he heard a chilling scream, small but definitely close by, come through the door. He grabbed his great sword and burst out of the room, waving off the two templars coming from opposite ends of the hallway.

The scream, as he had feared, came from Nyra's room. He heard sobbing and a strange clinking noise come from it before he barged in, gasping at what he found.

The entire carpet beneath her was covered in blood, and the blood started to swirl and solidify into a strange, violet crystal, so much like lyrium and yet far too concentrated. There were a few crystals jutting out from the ground, still growing steadily, and Nyra herself was in only her small clothes, sobbing as she grasped something on her arm and pulled heavily at it, giving another small scream and cry of pain before dropping the object on the ground.

A small lyrium crystal with _roots_.

Cullen dropped his sword and immediately slid down to his knees in front of her, looking her over, trying to find the source of the problem. She startled, seemingly unaware of his presence until then, and she snatched her arm away from him, hiding it and scrambling back. Cullen heard more tinkling, watching as she sent more bloodied shards out of her way, some the size of his pinkie, some the size of a knife. Tears flowed down her face as she shook her head, her mouth trying to form words as her body spasmed in pain.

"Nyra? Tell me what's wrong!" Cullen cried out, jumping over to her as a strange screeching sound, like metal being dragged over stone, came from her. she held out her arm as crystal fragments started to come back up where they had been pulled out previously, and Cullen looked back at the two recruits, who held their weapons at the ready. "Are you insane? Go get the First Enchanter and Greagoir! NOW!"

They scampered off immediately, sheathing their blades and leaving Cullen to the frightened mage. She was crying in so much agony, pulling the shards out, desperate for them to stop. He knelt down and took her in his arms, ignoring the resistance she put up. She was far too weak to do anything but give little shoves anyway. He put his hands over her arm and drained the magic in the area, causing them to stop. She gasped, breathing in deep and shuddering in his arms.

"Oh!" she gasped in shock, looking down as the crystals gleamed from the light streaming down on them. They didn't recede, but at least they had stopped growing.

"What happened?" he asked, gesturing out to all the blood and lyrium. She took in a few deep breaths before answering.

"I… it started to progress. I hadn't expected it to be this soon, or this painful… the lyrium is growing from points on my body that have access to bone marrow. Blood, muscle tissue, bones and such all attribute to the growth of the crystals. Areas where my organs reside tend to be avoided. I've only had it happen a few times, and that was when Love had exhausted her power in major battles, withdrawing into the Fade for a few hours. Without her, the Fade will seek to claim me." She explained, still half sobbing as she bit her lip and blinked out a few more tears. He automatically started to comfort her, but he caught himself at the last second. She didn't need the confusion right now, and he felt he didn't have a right to yet.

"Can… can we pull these out in any way without hurting you?" he asked, gently brushing over the crystals. She cringed a bit, and shook her head fiercely.

"They're… they are actually a part of my body. They're like a set of teeth. You can pull them out, but it will hurt like _hell_. It took three hours to take the few I had last time out with only a bit of pain." She whimpered, shaking and blinking her eyes again. Cullen sensed the magic in her flare up again and he immediately quelled it, forcing the crystals to remain dormant.

"I'll get a wash cloth, hold on. They shouldn't grow again for a few more minutes, yes?" she nodded, and he touched her shoulder. "Keep breathing and don't move, alright? I'll be right back."

He went back to his room, tossing the entire stack of fresh washcloths into the water basin and lifting the bowl from the stand. He rushed carefully back next door, setting it right next to her. she had her eyes closed and her wounded arm out, fist clenched. Her other hand was preoccupied with trying to pull another crystal out, and Cullen stopped her quickly.

"You don't have the strength to pull them out without prolonging the pain. I can pull them out faster. Will you let me?" he asked, taking her into his arms again and wrapping them around her from behind, holding onto her arm and then a crystal. She nodded briefly, whimpering.

"Please… make it quick." She sobbed, burying her head into his should. He nodded before quickly ripping one of the crystals out. He could literally hear the sound of the crystals ripping from the bone, a sharp metallic sound, and he threw them to the floor before immediately ripping the next one out. Her screams of pain bit into his heart and his stomach, nearly making him stop to comfort her, to soothe her in some way, but he knew he had to finish this as quickly as possible.

"Hold on." He whispered, pulling them out faster. They gave resistance, heavier than he expected, but he was able to get them all but one. This one had been left near her elbow, growing the entire time he was ripping the others out. This one had thorns on it, almost as if it belonged to some horrific predator that could slash through bodies like a knife through water. It was about a foot long, and he knew it would cause permanent damage if it wasn't healed right after it was pulled out.

"Maker's breath, what is the meaning of this?" Irving exclaimed, rushing into the room and preparing a healing spell. Cullen reflexively dispelled it the moment Nyra started to fidget away from it.

"They react to magic." She gasped, wheezing with the effort to keep conscious and breathing. "This one… this one will need to be healed the moment it's out of my body. It's progressed to a wraith stage. I'll explain later, but Irving, be ready to cast the moment it's out, alright?"

"Of course." He said, focusing magic farther away from her. She looked to Cullen and blinked away more tears. He brushed them away, looked into her eyes, and the moment she nodded, he jerked the crystal out with a grunt.

Her scream would haunt him forever.

Irving came forward with healing magic, but Cullen had dispelled her arm first, to prevent the crystals from coming back. When the flesh was knitted back together, they looked up at the young, beautiful mage. She was covered in blood, and her eyes were closed, her mouth open slightly in a grimace of pain. She was barely breathing.

"Nyra? Nyra!" Cullen asked, alarmed at her lack of response. Irving cast an aura around his fingers, holding his hands out over her, and when the light vanished, he sighed in relief.

"She's not dead, she just passed out." He looked at the pile of shards at Cullen's feet and he edged away from the uneasily. "Do you feel that, Greagoir?"

Cullen startled slightly as the Commander came forward, bending down to touch the crystal that had just been pulled out. The spikes were covered in blood that Cullen recognized as his own, glancing down at his hand and clenching it. The holes were shallow, but they certainly bled freely. He winced as Irving healed him quickly, then got up and actively avoided the crystals.

"Yes… these are _not_ ordinary lyrium crystals. I've never seen them take on a life of their own." Greagoir muttered, soon too quiet to hear. He picked up each fragment, examined it, and put it into another pile. Cullen spoke up.

"She said they were growing from her body, as if they were an actual part of it. She had expected this to happen, but not so soon and not on such a large scale. This is apparently n unusual amount of crystals." He supplied, situating Nyra's unconscious form in his arms and taking the washcloth, heart still pounding just a bit faster. He washed off the blood as best he could, and when there was only a slight pink left, he wiped her off and picked her up. The two senior men stayed silent throughout the entire process, Greagoir still contemplating the lyrium, and Irving looking strangely at the young knight.

"Yes, well, she needs to be watched. We need to make sure that this isn't contagious, and that she survives to the ritual. Irving, how fares the preparations?" Greagoir asked, turning to the man. He was still watching Cullen, now with a slightly disturbed look.

"The Lyrium shards required have been taken from her… entrance to the Tower. We have all the ingredients but one, and that is underway. The Essence requires Darkspawn blood, Darkspawn bones, and then the extract of a certain flower tainted by the blight. Andraste's Grace is but an ordinary flower when it is normal, but tainted it possesses the properties of so many poisons. Simply sniffing the flower would be enough to make one go insane, which is why it needs such careful preparation. Not many of them survive the taint, and those that do need about two days to mature. The flowers we have, but we need to wait for the taint to take them, and then proceed with caution. After that, we can go on with the ritual. No Harrowings were scheduled for the next two weeks, so we have already set up the Harrowing Chamber with the Crystals." Irving explained, and he paused as Cullen laid her out on the bed, putting her hair to the side and letting his hand linger briefly over her cheek. Irving noticed.

"There is nothing left to be done, then. Cullen, Watch over her. Should any more crystals appear, call out and the templar down the hall will be under orders to fetch me. I'll take these and store them in the repository. Hopefully, Irving can figure out what they really are." Irving gathered them up and bid them farewell, glancing back curiously at Cullen, and Greagoir almost immediately rounded on him. "Progress?"

"I do believe I deserve some credit for comforting her." Cullen frowned. "She was in quite a bit of pain, but I was able to keep them from growing. Otherwise… I think, Ser, that it would be unwise to continue this until we know the entire situation."

"What do you mean? Why?" He demanded, scowling briefly.

"Well… she was already involved, Ser, with the king Alistair. Something happened, they had a fight, and here she is." He gestured, sighing. "She's obviously facing some inner turmoil, and I don't know if romancing her is the best of options at the moment."

"We have no choice. However, yes, the king may be a problem. He may decide to come reclaim her, and this entire plan will fall. Or, she may be done with him, and though maybe a tad too early, still possible to win over. Be charming, be loyal, and simply be there for her. Oh, and… well…." The Commander fidgeted, blushing and glancing around with embarrassment. "The point being that, in order to woo a woman, you have to act a little more intimately with her. Touch her on occasion, smile like you're always happy to see her. When she worries over whether she looks good, say you're sure that the other mages are jealous. Flirt, but be subtle about it. You may want to win her confidence before you win her over, but that can be done easily."

"So, be more friendly, touch her subtly, flirt a little, and be someone she can confide in?"

"Yes. I can't honestly remember what else to do, but I'm sure if you asked one of the other templars, they might have a thing or two to tech you. I suggest you not worry about the king. I doubt he's a factor anymore, and even if he is, it will most likely be weeks, maybe months before he can even make the time for the trip over here. You have my confidence." And with that, Commander Greagoir left Cullen, sitting beside the woman he was supposed to lie to and pretend he had feeling for, when really, he did.

Andraste's flaming sword, how the hell was he to go about things now?

~*.*~

Alistair was being an idiot.

Wynne had, in her moment of anger, accidentally set fire to their tents when she came back to find Cheryl injured and whining. She hadn't been angry over the girls, no, but she had been thinking too much about recent events and the way the new king had been acting.

She had gone in to see him, to find out the troubles they had been having lately. She was truly surprised, knowing and seeing so much love on their journey that she thought they would never grow apart. She had taken back her previous opinion that they would not survive the Blight with their love intact, but it suddenly seemed to her that she was right. Alistair had said he didn't know how she survived, and he had no clue where she was going. He had been holding something back, but she couldn't get it out of him before he went off to talk with his new advisors on how to handle the situation with the Orlesian Grey Wardens, who had finally shown up to talk about the killing of the Archdemon.

Young people sometimes didn't seem worth the trouble they caused.

They had stopped by the nearest village, renting a carriage for the rest of their travels at her request. The packed their things up on top, and the trio climbed in, Leliana bringing a harp to play during the ride, and Cheryl bringing a book on techniques. Wynne herself was, ironically enough, knitting a scarf.

Sometimes, being old was cliché and boring. But at least she didn't have to walk all the way to the Circle again. _That_ had been a nightmare.

They were supposedly going to arrive by nightfall, having traveled most for the way there already. It would have taken two to three days on foot, depending on the weather. While she was knitting, she decided to think through the little lecture she was going to give Nyra on love, life, and escaping responsibilities. She didn't want to, but sometimes, it had to be done. Cheryl started to chat idly with Leliana, and Wynne decided maybe it was best just to relax and listen for awhile.

"So, Leliana, What are you going to do when we find Nyra all tip top and in one piece? I honestly have no clue myself." She mused, bookmarking her page and draping herself over the carriage. The way she moved with it instead of against the rocking suggested a lifetime of getting used to it.

"Well, I have no wish to go back to Orlais, even with Morjalaine dead. I suppose I'll stick around with Nyra, see what the Tower's like when it's not being overrun by demons. After that… I truly don't know. My calling seems finished." She answered, changing the tune of the lullaby she was playing. Wynne approved of the music, humming along gently to it.

"Well… after this, I'm going to have to go back to Highever. My brother doesn't know diddly about running the affairs at home, he only knows the military life…. And with everyone gone… it's going to be difficult to rebuild. You'd be welcome to tag along, if you wish." Cheryl offered. "If nothing else, Fergus will demand you be the castle bard."

Leliana laughed, seeming to add to the music itself, and smiled. "I would like that, I think, but will the Grey Wardens not be needing you? I have heard strange rumors about Amaranthine."

Wynne stopped her knitting and looked sharply up at Cheryl. The Cousland Warden's face visibly tightened, eyes glinting dangerously.

"Oh? What rumors would those be?" she asked politely, leaning in closer.

"Well, I've heard that the entire city has been plagued by raids from time to time of darkspawn and strange things, sometimes ships with no crew, sometimes trees that seem to talk. Even a mad elf was heard of wondering the woods along the way. The keep near it was taken in by the Orlesian Wardens, and everyone's getting antsy. With the Arling up for grabs, everyone's on edge." She nodded, changing the tune again to something more soothing, and Wynne nodded slightly in approval. Cheryl seemed to mull that over in her mind.

"Hm… the Arling is open? No one has stepped forward to claim it?" she asked, awaiting an answer. Leliana, realizing exactly what the topic was, hesitated.

"Nathaniel Howe was heard to have tried, but with…. With the events… the events that took place at Highever and in Denerim, he has been thrown in a cell to await judgment. His father's legacy seems to have affected him somewhat." She treaded cautiously, glancing up at Cheryl from behind thin eyelashes. Wynne had set down her knitting by now and had decided to throw her own two bits in.

"Cheryl, after Nyra is seen to and we are sure everything is all right, I think it would be best for you to handle things along in Denerim, until Alistair has time to deal with Amaranthine. You have had your vengeance; now look beyond it." She warned, picking her knitting back up and resuming her work.

Sometimes, being old was a good thing.

~*.*~

Morrigan was absolutely livid.

The Tower stood on the other side of the water, grey and imperious in the noon light. It nearly made her ill. She had made a plan to get in as an animal, probably a hawk, and then see if Nyra was alright, but that plan had been canceled the moment a templar troupe had walked into her, carrying a rather disgruntled looking young man with blonde hair, shackled and in mages robes, down to the docks. They immediately recognized her from the attack on the Tower, and they regarded her warily.

"You there. You were the apostate traveling with the Wardens, were you not?" the leader rumbled, glaring at her from behind his helmet. She sighed dramatically before she gave him a smirk.

"Aye, t'was me you saw, though I know not why you bother me. Speak and be done with it, I have better things to do then entertain a few sniveling boys in armor." She crossed her arms, regarding them with disinterest. The leader gave a short laugh before he took a step forward.

"In the name of the Maker, I-," he pointed at her, but he didn't get very far when she interrupted him and walked away.

"As I have said, I can spend no time on boys such as yourselves. I must get to the Tower." She stumbled as she felt her mana drain, looking behind her at the leading man. "Oh dear, look what you did. You should be careful, little templar; Morrigan is not in the mood to play nicely."

And with that, she turned into a spider.

The templars all shouted at once, leaping back as she pounced on the man and dragged him back, throwing his screams in every direction. She hesitated only long enough to consider how Nyra would feel if she slaughtered the men, and then decided against it. Instead, she lowered her abdomen, started to spin some silk, and eventually, the leader was in a cocoon of sticky thread, attached to the nearest tree. She changed back into her human form and smirked at her handiwork. If you looked closely, you could see little waves and swirls.

"I have no intention of killing you all, so I will warn you only once more; leave me be to my task and you will not end up stuck to a tree like your leader. Oh, and your prisoner is escaping." She called as she changed into a hawk and flew to the prison.

_Please, sister, be all right. _She thought as she glided over the waves.

~*.*~

Nyra awoke with a gasp, clutching her heart and scrambling out of the covers. Someone had a hold of her arm, and before she could think, she had sent them flying across the room.

Cullen landed with a loud 'thunk' as he hit the wall, sliding down it and groaning a bit, getting up as quickly as he could. She gasped and jumped out of the bed, running over to him and checking him.

"Oh Maker, I am so sorry! I panicked!" she cried, helping him upright. He grunted, moving stiffly over to a chair. He sat down, crooked his finger, and closed his eyes. She walked to him slowly, biting her lip in worry. "Are you okay?"

"I've definitely had worse. Only got the calm shocked out of me when I was thrown across the room with no warning." He grumbled, rubbing at his back. She moved forward, a healing energy flowing through her fingers. She stopped right in front of him and looked to see if it was alright.

"Do you need healing?"

"No, its just a bump, it'll be fine in a few minutes." He shook her off, but she gave him that _look_. That 'uh huh, of course it doesn't hurt'.

"I don't believe you. Turn around. Now." She demanded, wiggling her glowing fingers. Cullen hesitated, but a few seconds later, he resigned and turned for her. She gently ran her finger along his back, sending the tingling energies into him and relaxing the sore and bruised muscles. She knew she threw him hard, and that only made her feel that much guiltier. She rubbed his shoulders, trying to send more energy into him to make up for it, and felt a little surprise when he groaned. He rolled his head forward and seemed to give over completely to her.

He was enjoying it?

She kept rubbing circles into his shoulders, occasionally moving up and rolling his neck. He responded with light sighs as she continued, and when she moved to his shoulder blades, he made a soft moan in the back of his throat. She smiled, pleased to know that he was willing to let her do this when she knew he had wanted to remain vigilant and on guard all the time. Besides, he always watched over her, and he never asked for anything in return. It felt nice to give something back.

When he was near completely jelly, she lingered to let the last traces of healing magic wave over him, and then took a step back.

"Feeling better?" she asked brightly, giving him one of her serene smiles. He chuckled a bit shakily, looking around and rubbing his neck, but the look on his face froze her in her tracks.

His entire posture was relaxed, and his face was lazy, the smirk he had far more sensual than any she had seen on him before and his eyes were hooded with a contented look. His face held a slight shadow, throwing off the planes of his face perfectly. His shoulders, his broad shoulders, were slack and one of his arms was rubbing the back of his neck somewhat sheepishly. He looked… good.

He looked _sexy_.

"Um…. Thank you." He smiled wider, flashing that smirk of his, oh Maker _damn _that smirk of his. He blushed a little, shuffling around, and she was left speechless.

Why was it so hard to breathe all of a sudden?

He walked forward, hesitating nearly every step, and when he stood in front of her, she took in a short, shaky breath. He took her shoulders in his hands and looked down with a smile, and his eyes melted right into her core.

"If… I said if you ever needed me, I'd be right next door… but I want to make sure you know. If you ever need my help, or if you ever need to talk to someone… if you ever need someone and you don't know who to go to, I can be there for you… if you wish." Every word he spoke had been thought through deliberately and carefully chosen, she could see, and her heart seemed to rip itself apart just as it fluttered with joy. The similarities were far too many for it to be a coincidence. The way he talked, the way he moved, the gentle brushing of his thumb on her shoulder….

"Did you have a dream last night about-…. This room?" she asked, eyes cast low, and she heard his breath hitch. When she glanced back up at him, he stared at her with a wonder and a slightly guarded expression. After a few seconds, he yielded the answer.

"Yes. I did… and I dreamt about a star." He said, and when he said star, his eyes became so tender, so… so _loving_, it was no coincidence.

"And was I there?" she whispered, drawing closer and looking up at him. His next answer would tell her so many things, and she was afraid, truly afraid of what it would be.

"I think you know." He murmured, drawing closer and whispering in her ear. "After all, you're the one who shines brighter than everyone else… my star."

She shuddered with a single tear flowing down her face, hitting the floor beneath her and turning into liquid lyrium, bright and shining. He pulled back enough to take her hand and place a kiss on it, gentle and sweet, before he backed away. She gasped, her heart beating too fast, too hard, and started to shake her head. He awaited her response with kind and gentle, understanding eyes.

"I… I…." she opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to get the words out. A few more tears of glowing lyrium fell from her eyes, and she shook them away, putting her hand over her heart to try to calm it. Cullen nodded and stepped forward, taking her hands in his. Without armor, he was still an unusually large man, and his hands nearly engulfed hers. They were warm and maybe a little rough, but they handled hers with a calm, easy gentleness.

"I know nothing about what you're going through… but please… let me help you." He pleaded softly, squeezing her hands lightly but firmly, and she threw herself into him, crying over everything she had been through.

He didn't seem all that surprised, embracing her firmly and holding her up as she was about ready to fall. He walked back to the chair and sat down, pulling her closer and letting her weep over everything that had happened. She spared no details, sharing the supposed love that she had possessed from Alistair, and then the events right afterwards. She told him about the fight, and he seemed to grow tense as she mentioned being smote at the end of it, and why she really left. She told him about the numb, dead feeling, the journey in part towards Lothering and the destruction she sought to use to fill the emptiness in her heart. She continued on to where she had started to feel again, and how she had come to the tower, not originally for the healing, but to find someone, a specific person, though she didn't know the name.

"It was you. The moment I saw you, the pain stopped being so unbearable. I don't know why, I don't know what it means, but…." She cried, the glowing tears continuing to spill. His tunic was soaked with the shining liquid, but he didn't seem to mind. He was rubbing her back as she hiccupped sob after sob, and the entire time he had been nothing but perfect. Nyra pulled back a bit, rubbing her eyes and sighing.

"Maybe… you were meant to be here?" he ventured, gazing into her eyes. She nodded.

"Maybe… oh, I'm sorry, look what I did!" she sighed, starting to get up, but he put a hand up in protest.

"I really couldn't care less about the tunic. Trust me, you're absolutely fine. And… I'm glad you came back… what I said in the dream was a basic summary of it, but… I felt dull without you here." He rushed, as though he wasn't sure how she would react. She giggled watery, brushing the remnants of the tears away and smiling ruefully.

"Then its good I came back to shine for my knight in shining armor?" she laughed lightly, getting up and standing in front of him. He got up and came closer, reaching out and embracing her again.

"So many people would be lost without you. Myself included." He sighed, rocking slowly back and forth. She snuggled in, glad for someone warm to hold onto.

"Then I guess I better keep on shining… a star, huh?"

"The brightest."

* * *

><p>AN I got really tired of playing cat and mouse. So I decided to play star and shining knight instead. Remember, reviews fuel me and let me know I should keep going and sometimes even give me ideas. Without reviews, I lose the will to write. Thank you for reading, and I hope I made a few Cullen fans happy!


	7. Love Evanescent

Writers Block has been attended to, and hopefully won't happen again… but I'm not exactly sure where this is going at the moment. For some reason, that 7th or 8th chapter is always the hardest, you know? Well, I hope I am forgiven for this.

Hm, so… Zevran was sent on a mission to steal the rights to the game… he's been gone for awhile…

* * *

><p>~*.*~<p>

Cullen was near bursting with happiness.

Nyra was right there, in his arms, in the real world! She was smiling up at him from beneath the small curtain of her hair, gleaming silver against the rest of the near rustic space around them. As she sighed in happiness, he held her ever closer, contemplating what he should do next. Was it too soon for a kiss? Was he supposed to automatically assume that he _should_ kiss her? But if he did, and she didn't want it, or if it hurt her, or if he did it wrong- He really wasn't experienced in that area- what then? Would everything he had hoped for come crashing down? Would she refuse to ever be near him again? Oh Maker, why was it so damn hot in here all of a sudden?

He looked down at her, seeing the curious glint in her eyes, passing over the cute little smile, those full, pink lips, the rose tinted cheeks… the silver eyes, the soft hair…

He decided it was worth it, even if she rejected him.

He slowly touched her cheek, watching as she leaned into the warmth. He slid his hand down to gently caress her chin, tilting it up to himself. Her eyes widened a fraction, a spark of familiarity coming into her face. He gulped silently, blinked once, stared at her for a second, and then started to slowly descend, lips intent on brushing hers and-

_Knock Knock Knock!_

That is, until the knocking sent them scattering. They immediately flew apart, as if it was practiced, with Nyra ending up sitting at the edge of the bed, fixing her hair and appearing nonchalant, and Cullen plumping down onto the far left chair, the farthest away from her. She took a second to steady herself, he took a deep breath, and then they both looked to the door.

"Yes? Come in!" she called, smiling gently at the door as it swung open. A young templar, most likely just initiated into the order officially, stepped forward nervously, taking reluctant steps to the young mage. Cullen tensed slightly as he came closer than truly necessary.

"Miss Amell, there's a situation that requires your presence in the lobby. A witch with wild black hair and wicked yellow eyes stormed in, demanding to see you, and was followed shortly by Mage Wynne, Lady Cousland, and a red haired Bard. They're arguing in the lobby with the First Enchanter and Knight Commander Greagoir worried it might turn violent if you are not accounted for soon." He explained in a hurry, glancing back at Cullen curiously. Nyra gasped at the mention of the witch, fists tightening slightly, and she leapt to her feet almost instantly. She surprised them both by grabbing them and throwing them out the door, shutting it behind her loudly. Cullen could hear many things being rifled through in the seconds after, filled otherwise with silence.

"Tell them I'll be down in a moment! Leliana will _kill_ me if I show up in a simple robe…" she called to them, trailing to a mumbling with her complaint. Cullen sighed, shaking his head. He turned back to the knight.

"Go down and explain to them that she'll be down when she is decent, and nothing else, understand? And stay away from the witch; she is a close friend of Miss Nyra's, and she is to be treated as such despite her demeanor… also, she likes to play with… just stay away from her, understood? And don't look directly in her eyes." He advised, sending him off with a pat to the back. He shook his head just as the door was pushed open slightly and his armor came out piece by piece.

"You get dressed too. Wouldn't do to have a templar without armor in the Circle, _defenseless_ now, would it?" she giggled from the other side, shutting it swiftly. He laughed lightly and started to put the plate and gauntlets on. After he was dressed, he waited patiently for his charge to finish, but as the minutes passed he began to worry.

"Miss Nyra? Are you well?" he called through the other side. He heard a quick shuffling and a muffled 'yes' as fabric rustled behind the door. He stood back, awaiting her exit, and he gave a little start as she slipped out quietly, holding a staff and wearing one of the most unique robes he had ever seen. Right next to her Fade Robes.

The robes themselves, as a base color, were snow white, carefully bleached to perfection. The material seemed of a thin, light substance, and it hugged her from the waist right up to just above the chest. Her shoulders had armor like pads on them, with lyrium crystals {no doubt from her} embedded into them, instead of the feathered pauldrons he was used to seeing on wild robes. The shoulder pads were a blood red color, as were the triangles adorning the edges of her sleeves, the hem of her robe, and the edges of the hood that fell behind her. The hood itself looked far too large for such a small body, and the sleeve and hem seemed to widen as they got down to their openings. There was a criss-cross pattern of red leather laces in the front, tied of at the tip with pinkie sized lyrium crystals acting like accenting beads. From the collar part of her hood came other crystals, these ones about as big as teardrops, and they cascaded down the front of her robes in little streams, about a hundred or so. She smiled secretly at his admiring glance, though he had been sure that he had hid it well enough, and she put her arms up quirkily, turning around and letting him get a good look. Apparently, the hood had a very long, pointed end. It took him a moment to find words, but when he did, he could have smacked himself.

"You have a very… eccentric style. Beautiful… but eccentric." He commented, puzzled and intrigued at the same time. She laughed aloud at this.

"Well, when you grow up in a Circle and don't have much else to do when you're done with studies, you tend to branch out and find hobbies. I've always loved making things, but clothing was something I couldn't have worn here when I was a simple mage. Now? No one can exactly tell me what to wear unless I'm a case of indecent exposure." She shrugged. "And besides; I like to wear pretty things."

"I suppose you do." Cullen conceded, though his smile erased any doubt of his thoughts. He looked over to her staff, noticing it for the first time as well. "What kind of staff is that? I've never seen one like it in the Circle."

Nyra glanced down at the long wooden rod in her hands. The wood had been a very rare form of infected iron bark, poisoned by lyrium and Fade spirits, Sylvans, and Morrigan had decided it would have some use to them. The color had changed to a glossy black with veins of dark green fungus, which Morrigan had clarified wouldn't harm them, or Bahamut, after it was treated. She had carved it into a long, smooth base with delicate swirls starting about halfway. Near the last quarter of the staff, she had left a larger chunk to carve the likeness of a raven, perching on the edge of a rock with its wings stretched out and forwards, protecting an empty area at first. She had carved little holes in a pattern on the back and in certain areas, including the eyes and the tail feathers, and then Morrigan had simply awaited the time when Nyra had shed or created many lyrium crystals. She took her pick from the different sizes, ground them down with magic, and then fit them into the hollows. The largest piece was a meticulously round orb in the middle of the wings, protected and shining with a strange light. Nyra could never figure out how Morrigan had enchanted it that way, but it glowed in even the darkest of places, providing a star in the night when all other lights grew dim. The entire staff had been fitted with powerful enchantments and runes, though again, Nyra had no clue where their origin was. Morrigan had simply presented it to her with a rare smile.

"Oh, this? It's… a very unique staff. Morrigan, the Witch of the Wilds downstairs… she made it for me after I killed her mother." She sighed happily, stroking the stone like surface of the ravens head. Cullen nodded and smiled for a second before realizing what she had said.

"Wait, you what?" he exclaimed incredulously. She cringed a little bit, snapping out of her daze.

"I had to kill her mother, Flemeth. Yes, I know, hog wash and a bucket of lies, but it was true. Her mother really was Flemeth, just… not like all the stories portrayed her. She had been… necessary in our escape of the battle at Ostagar, but when we learned she was… going to do something bad to Morrigan, we acted to save her from her mother. Don't ask me any more for now… please… those were distant times." She flinched, and Cullen could have beaten himself for causing such a reaction. At that time, she must have been… romantically involved.

It made a flicker of anger roar when he thought about what had been done to her. Surely he had been jealous that such an opportunity was given to another man, but he was somewhat content knowing she was at least happy. But to harm her heart so? No, Cullen knew he resented the man before, but now Alistair had given him a reason to be hated. King or no, he had awakened a desire to kill that Cullen had never felt before. He had harmed the most precious thing in the world; he deserved no mercy.

"Let's go… better to not keep them waiting." She mumbled, taking in a few deep breaths to try to settle herself. Cullen watched with concern as she started to show signs of inner conflict, strapping the staff to her back and holding her hands over her heart.

"Are you expecting conflict?" he asked, stepping forward to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. She looked back up at him with glistening eyes.

"No... I just… none of them know the situation… and I don't think I'm strong enough to explain. Right after I killed the Archdemon, I had felt like the strongest person alive, able to do anything… and now I feel like the weakest thing in the world… I try to bring myself up and… and-," she tried to explain, hands fluttering around, emphasizing words that tripped over themselves. Cullen frowned and held a hand up, stopping her rant and making her eye him with doe eyes.

"We don't have to do this now. I could go down and report that you've been ill lately and have fallen back asleep." He suggested, but she shook her head, still ever silent. "Are you sure?"

"Yes… let's go. Better not keep the ladies waiting, eh?" she giggled humorlessly, painting a smile on her face and putting a false glimmer in her eyes. It held for a moment, presenting a picture to the world, but Cullen simply looked at it and frowned. He could tell she wasn't prepared for any explanations.

"Miss Nyra…." He sighed. He shook his head briefly and looked back into her eyes. Her mask started to crack under his gaze, first her eyes, then her smile. She looked around slowly, her lip delicately caught between her teeth. Cullen looked around slightly, making sure no one else was around, before he took a step forward and embraced her. She startled slightly, gasping in before hugging onto him like he was the only steady thing in the Tower. After a few seconds, she released him and smiled shyly, turning gracefully and moving purposefully through the halls.

They silently made their way through the halls down to the entrance. As they came upon the open door, they heard shouting from several parties bouncing off the walls. The windows surrounding them were just after dusk, barely dark enough to let the torches carry the light. The huddle of people in the middle of the room was edged by templars nervously fingering the pommels of their blades, and many angry women shouting obscenities at Greagoir and Irving. Cullen recognized all four of the said women, among them Mage Wynne.

"Where is she? If you did something to her, Greagoir, I swear to the Maker!" Wynne stormed, face flushed and arms crossed. Cullen could feel his own ears heat up as if it was him receiving the scolding.

"Oh hush, you insufferable woman! We haven't laid a finger on her!" Greagoir shouted right back. Nyra's eyes widened, and Cullen found himself reaching for the pommel of his sword, just in case.

"She is almost here, I assure you, she's just been through many things in the past few days, and she is unwell at the moment. No, I cannot explain it as well as she could, so if you would simply wait for a few minutes, she can tell you herself, alright? I wouldn't want- Oh thank the maker!" Irving sighed, slouching slightly as the women turned sharply from him towards Nyra. Cullen suddenly felt anxious as their glares pierced through him and softened when they came to the girl.

Leliana gasped, Cheryl's eyes widened, and Wynne's hand flew to her mouth in horror.

"You're hair…." The Bard whispered, coming closer and putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Cheryl just gulped and shook her head, eyes full of pity, while Wynne stared and stared at the girl. Whatever argument she had must have died on her lips.

Cullen stepped back as they rushed forward, allowing them to embrace and comfort their friend, but when they had all converged, the Witch of the Wilds waved them aside and stood directly in front of Nyra.

"Tell me who has done this to you, for their death shall be unpleasant, grotesque, and possibly lasting the better part of a year." She glared, crossing her arms over herself. The witch waited for an answer, but when Nyra looked down and aside, her expression changed subtly and….

She _hugged_ Nyra?

"Come. Let us talk somewhere private, away from these pathetic, sniveling boys." She said comfortingly, taking Nyra and leading her up the stairs. Nyra, however, paused and looked over to the templar. Cullen had been observing everything and decided to think objectively the moment he saw the tears on her face.

"Miss Nyra, perhaps you wish to retire to the greenhouse with your… friend? Alone?" he suggested, looking back at her other friends. Leliana simply nodded and took Cheryl away to the corner, nodding to the mage as they left, and Wynne simply came forward and patted her shoulder.

"If you need me, I will be in the library. Be gentle, Morrigan." And with that, she dashed ahead of them and up the spiraling tower. Morrigan glanced petulantly at Cullen before leading her up. As the knight started to follow, Greagoir's voice whispered into his ear from behind.

"Progress is going smoothly, yes? We'll need her with us as soon as possible. That witch will have her paranoid and suspicious of everyone else in no time…." Greagoir mumbled under his breath. Cullen nodded slightly, bowing his body and then running up after the girls.

Why did everything seem to get worse when it was already looking up?

~*.*~

Morrigan did not know what to do.

Nyra would not stop crying over her previous mate, and though the witch knew that the idiot fool would break the poor girl's heart, she held her tongue to say so. Nyra did not need truth forced on her when she already knew it openly enough, yes? Morrigan believed she had run too much snot from her nostrils already anyways.

But still she would not stop crying. Morrigan awkwardly put her arm around the sobbing girl's shoulder, rubbing small circles of the little healing magic she knew into her arms. That seemed to calm her excessive noise making, but her eyes were still flooding tears.

"I… do not know what to say. I have never had such a relationship before, though I still believe that we should go back to Denerim so I can wrap him in silk before devouring him slowly for what he has done. Would that not make it better?" Morrigan asked, gazing at her with concern. Nyra sniffed a little, shaking her head. Morrigan sighed in pity. She had believed it to be an excellent idea. "Then I truly do not know what to do. Is there something you can think of?"

"Make me forget him?" Nyra asked hopefully. Morrigan paused, thought about it for a moment, and then shook her head.

"Tis' not good for one's health to be smacked repeatedly on the head until one's memory is lost. Death is a distinct possibility I cannot allow." Morrigan frowned, scowling a bit. "No magic I know of can make one forget something that was such a crucial part of one's life, in such a way as yours was. Without your experience with the blundering idiot, I am sad to say I do not know what would have become of Ferelden. Now, a simple question or two to sift through it all. Love is no longer with you, at least for the moment?"

"No."

"And she disappeared shortly after you slew the Archdemon?"

"Yes." Nyra said, her lip starting to tremble once again. Morrigan rubbed her shoulders absently as she took a moment for her thoughts.

"Alistair acted differently the moment you two were alone?"

"No, I saw his entire expression and attitude change the moment I was done casting my spell. I hadn't really looked away from him…." She hiccupped, taking out another, less damp handkerchief.

"Odd… did he exhibit any signs of such behavior before the battle? Before it all?"

"No, he had always been… he had always been so gentle!" she cried, leaning back into the witch. Morrigan sighed as another torrent of tears ran their way down her robes. If she hadn't been the one true sister she had ever found, Morrigan would have snapped at her already for being a blubbering buffoon. As it was, she could not, and she dealt with being the towel.

"It does not make sense. Even _I_ could see the fool's devotion… something went wrong. It had to have, or else this situation would not have occurred. Love may have the answers we seek, though I know not how to reach her any sooner than you. Though this ritual sounds daunting, I will never the less be taking second in it to ensure your safety in the Fade." There, that sounded like the right thing to say, Morrigan thought. She had planned on shadowing her, but if her presence was known in the ritual, then all would be well.

"You can't follow me into the fade. It's a solo act, just like the Harrowing." Nyra sniffed, rubbing her eyes again. "It should take place within the next few days, hopefully. I just wish that it could all go back to the way it was before. And I don't even know what's happening with Cu-."

Morrigan waited for her to finish, quirking a brow when the mage's lips tightened and she looked away. "What is it?"

"I… I don't really know… I just have a feeling that somewhere along the line, a mistake was a made, you know? Have you ever had that feeling?" She asked, quiet and almost to herself. Morrigan thought on it for a few minutes before responding.

"I had often felt that way while I was being raised by mother, though I could not explain it then and nor can I explain it now. Was it that I felt she should have raised me with this love that is spoken of? Or that she should have been a _normal_ mother? There were numerous questions to ponder, each more wild then the previous. But… I believe I can empathize, if not sympathize. Tell me what is strange; I may be able to assist you." Morrigan said thoughtfully.

At this, Nyra seemed to pause. Morrigan became worried at first, then wary, and finally suspicious as the minutes ticked by. When Nyra looked up, she had her own contemplative look on her face.

"Maybe… maybe things weren't meant to be the way they were." She murmured, getting up and leaving the room quickly. She paused at the door and threw over her shoulder, "Thank you. I think I know what I need to do now."

And with that, Morrigan was left alone in a strange room surrounded by plants… with one of them trying to eat her slippers.

~*.*~

Cullen was feeling odd.

He watched her cry from the corner window of the garden area, itching to help her in any way he could, but he knew he could not. At least, not while the witch was trying her absolute {grim}best. Her tears awoke both a tender side to his feelings and a beast seeking the destruction of the cause.

So he pondered killing the king for what seemed like _hours_.

The classic scenario of him sneaking into the kings chambers and slitting his throat, bashing his head in or choking him to death were first. After concluding the castle was far to secured, he dwelled on the kings most likely routine and schedule. Killing him in the baths was… plausible, but not likely. The gardens would be excellent as long as they didn't have men stationed around the perimeter, but again, he doubted it. If the king were to go on a hunt, he might be able to take him out from afar, or track him until he came upon a group of darkspawn and was distracted enough to be shot in the back.

_Screw this, just hire someone to do it_ he thought after he exhausted his options.

And suddenly, he felt a lot happier.

"And of course the theory is sound, but if you add too much heat to the spell, it can melt some of the weapons imbued. The safest solution is always electricity, bearing in mind that it should be used most carefully when one is armored in met- Oh. Ser Cullen. What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be with Miss Amell?" Mage Tallin asked as she stumbled upon him, coming from the Garden area.

"Oh, yes, I was just waiting for her. She is currently visiting with her friends in the garden-," he started to say, turning to look in, only to find something was amiss. Morrigan was busy making potions… and Nyra was nowhere in sight. "Naturally."

"Oh, well, she had just passed us not two minutes ago. I believe she had gone to First Enchanter Irving's office. She said something about fixing a spell she needed?" Tallin said ponderously, looking back to her friend. Mage Karol, it seemed.

"Yes. She seemed rather preoccupied. She also had this look on her face, as if she had been stung by a wasp." The young mage shrugged. "I assumed that she had been in an argument earlier. Might as well ask… her." She pointed, nose twitching a bit towards the feral mage in the Garden Room. Cullen frowned, but nodded his thanks. As the two mages left, he started to make his way to Morrigan, eyes tight.

"Apostate." He addressed her bitterly. She glanced briefly up at him, disdain clear on her face.

"Whatever it is you think to get from me, little templar, be warned; I do not frighten easily." She said as she continued to mix her potions, the occasional smell of medicine and herbs wafting up to meet him. Cullen crossed his arms, trying to find the best solution. He could not bare weakness in front of her, and gentleness in her eyes was such. Better to be firm.

"Mage Amell did not alert me that she was leaving. Where has she gone?" he demanded, slow and distinct. Morrigan smirked darkly up at him.

"I ate her. Her sniveling became quite annoying after the first few minutes." She challenged, putting down her potions and crossing her arms. He glared at her in silence, eyebrow raised and his frown growing ever lower. She sighed heavily after a couple of seconds. "I know not where she went. All I know is she ascended this gilded Cage, muttering something about how everything was not as it should have been. It's not as if she could leave without causing a riot, I am sure. Tis not my business, and neither, should I think, is it yours."

"I'm her guard." He ground out.

"Are you now? Or are you her watcher? A Keeper, perhaps? To watch the dear warden, the mage, the most powerful of us, in case she were to turn abomination? To keep her here, oh so very 'safe' from harm?" The witch drew ever closer, her words tantalizing in a way they should _not_ have been. Cullen felt himself grow angry and confused, but felt no magic being drawn on here. "Or, perhaps, you are yet another dog; looking to replace the last one she kept by her side? Looking to claim her as your own, now that no one is in the way? Do not think I wasn't aware of your watching of her. Do not think our first encounter was forgotten, when the Cage was possessed of demons. You were of want of her then; why should that have changed now?"

"You're wrong." He managed to force out, trying to keep her gaze. She laughed at him, her smirk turning into a derisive sneer.

"Am I now?"

"We have sworn oaths to the chantry-" he started, but found the lump in his throat stop him from continuing.

"Indeed. And, of course, oaths are _always_ kept, yes? Then you have absolutely nothing to worry about, you poor, blundering fool." She smiled, her condescending voice pushing him over the edge. He reached out with his mind and attacked her mana supply, smiting her with holy fire and grinding his teeth, taking her by the arms.

"You strive to far, _witch_!" he growled, continuing the drain, feeding his own power as she gasped at the loss of hers. He could feel her sudden fear and outrage, but it paled in comparison to her feeling of helplessness.

"Do I? Or have I walked into an area you had thought no one knew of? A safe haven, far from reach, out of mind? May hap you were busy thinking about it while she ran up to see the head bird?" she snapped at him, successfully wrenching herself from his grasp when she finished. He immediately put on his cool, unfeeling templar mask and bowed slightly, mockingly.

"Thank you so very much for your cooperation." And with that, he left.

~*.*~

"Leliana, I don't think that would make her feel better…." Cheryl sighed, frowning at the numerous dyes the Orlesian bard seemed to be making. Leliana, after leaving Nyra to go with Morrigan, had decided to try her best to find a solution. So she turned towards what she knew; Orlesian style and fashion. Particularly dyed hairs and rouges of all varieties. Cheryl hadn't seen so much makeup since her mother had made her dress up for the Conte De Lance from the free marches, trying to impress him enough to take her hand in marriage. After the initial pass he made at her "remarkable bosom", he fled with his hands tucked between his legs in fear. Her mother stopped making her use make up after that.

"Well, what if she needs a change from all of this? We could always do just a strip, just a little, to see how she feels about it. If that does not work, I am sure we could make a trip to Orlais and show her the wonders of shoes…" she paused, looking down at Cheryl's road worn boots. "Wonders that seem to have escaped Ferelden somehow."

Cheryl puffed at that. "I will have you know, Fereldans _can_ make gorgeous shoes. We're just constantly at war, needing… boots instead of frivolous _things_."

"There is never an excuse for lack of good shoes."

"These are good shoes!"

"No, my dear Cheryl, those are in fact _not_ good shoes. They are battle boots. And they smell more atrocious than your dog." Leliana snapped, pointing to the lounging Mabari. Tiamat looked up immediately and whined a little. Cheryl bit back a retort when Tiamat leaned over to take a sniff of her boots, then pulled his head back frantically, scratching away at the offensive odor.

"Fine. So Fereldans tend to go more for practicality than anything else. The point I was trying to get at is, pushing her problems or the not so good things in front of her face right now, well… could probably just make it that much more unbearable for her." Cheryl sighed again, taking a seat on the guest bed. "All we can do is be there for her. Perhaps a little girl bonding time? Without the hair dyes?"

"Tch, alright, but I still think she would look good with strawberry blonde hair." Leliana conceded, putting the brightly colored jars away.

Tiamat seemed to heave a sigh of relief after the argument ended.

~*.*~

Nyra knew something had gone wrong.

It all started when Love had first come into her life, a solid presence, more or less. Love had been gently prodding, encouraging her to do certain activities. Train this mage in healing magic; go read a book now, you need the rest. Suggestion after suggestion, all of which Nyra had followed. Really, it was a reminder of her normal routine.

But there was a reason why Love had pushed her in that direction.

When Duncan had pushed her into becoming a Grey Warden, Love had fought with him on it. She had even visited him in the Fade to plead with him. When he didn't budge, she asked he at least take a templar as well. He informed her that they already had someone trained in the templar arts. Love couldn't find an argument to persuade him, and she eventually gave up on the endeavor. Love had been despairing ever since they had gotten to Ostagar, always letting slip they should have still been at the Tower.

That had been when a new path had formed to the side, Nyra ventured.

Together, the remaining Wardens went to Lothering, along with the dogs and Morrigan. They had recruited Sten the Qunari, and Leliana the Lay Sister. They made their way to the Tower almost immediately after that, and…

The Tower. Love had been agonizing over the Fate of someone, a man. Who, Nyra had never guessed. She had seemed shocked to see Cullen in a Cage, and even greater her shock for Alistair's sudden attraction to her. Love had been doubtful at first, but eventually encouraged the union. Throughout Ferelden, Nyra had felt safe and warm with Alistair {a twinge pulled at her heart from the thought}. He held her lovingly, he spoke sweet nothings {empty promises…}, and he kissed her and brought out the tenderest of feelings. Love had been content.

And then… there was that night.

Just after saving Redcliffe, they had stopped to rest at a cozy inn along the way. They had already visited Denerim once, they had saved the Werewolves and the Elves, and they were about to go in search of the Ashes of Andraste. Alistair had been silent, especially after she had given him his mother's old locket. He had seemed to avoid her for days on end, only speaking when he needed to shout something in battle, or give short, terse directions. When they arrived at the inn, he left hurriedly for his room with Sten.

~*.*~

"_Night." He said loudly, so all of the group could hear. Everyone nodded or murmured the same, except for Nyra. She blinked away tears of sadness and frustration at his sudden attitude. She gathered her things, huffed to her room, and then unfolded herself… to cry and sob herself to sleep._

_A knock had sounded round an hour later, jolting her upright and forcing her to dry her eyes. After a few moments to collect herself, she bade whoever it was to enter._

_It was Alistair. He had just bathed, fitted in fitting clothes and holding his mother's locket in his hand. He was fiddling with it much like he did that runic coin of his, whenever he was nervous or worried about something. She hated to admit it, but he looked handsome with his hair spiked up, still slightly damp, dark auburn almost, and his scruff shading his face dramatically in the candlelight. His warm brown eyes were lidded in thought, and the circles underneath them betrayed he hadn't slept much lately._

"_Hello, I was ju- Wait, h-have you been crying?" he stuttered, stopping mid speech and gazing worriedly at her face. She blinked away more tears and shook her head, standing up to get around him._

_It didn't quite work when he stopped her before she reached the door, embracing her steadily and warmly. He smelled like pine needles and soaps, clean and yet still somehow his own scent. She couldn't take it and burst into tears into his shirt, causing him to hug her closer and wander to the bed to set them down._

"_Nyra, what's wrong? What happened?" he fretted, brushing away her tears gently and and pulling her face up to meet his gaze. She gulped and tried to look away, but eventually she snapped her eyes back to his._

"_I thought I had d-done something to make you h-hate me… you've b-been avoiding me, and… you've been so distant lately. E-everytime I had tried to talk to you, y-you would j-just… just cringe and mutter an excuse…." She stuttered, sobbing harder. Alistair had gotten off the bed instantly, kneeling before her to take her face in his hands. His face was pained and serious, his eyes trying to find hers._

"_I didn't mean to just shut everyone out… especially you. I've just been thinking a lot lately, and… the reason is actually why I came here tonight." He sighed, suddenly drawing in and taking her hands. "I need to tell you something I… I probably should have told you earlier."_

"_I'm… not going to like this, am I?" she asked slowly, looking down into his eyes._

"_I don't know. I doubt it. I've never liked it, that's for sure. Well, did I tell you how I knew Arl Eamon?"_

"_I think you said he raised you."_

"_Yes, well- wait, no, let me finish." He inhaled deeply before letting out in a torrent, "I'm a bastard, my mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe Castle, and she died when I was born. Arl Eamon took me in and raised me, before I was sent to the Chantry. The reason he did that was, well… because my father was King Marric. Which made Cailin my… half brother. I suppose." He looked up at her worriedly, somewhat nauseous, and she stared back at him with wide eyes._

"_Doesn't that make you heir to the throne?" she croaked, coughing to be able to speak properly. Alistair looked like he was in pain as he answered._

"_Maker's Breath, I hope not! I don't think so… you don't think so, do you? I'm a bastard, and nobody even knows about me. I would have told you, but… it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailin's rule, so they kept me secret. I never talked about it to anyone. Everyone who knew either resented me for it or they coddled me. Even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I didn't want you to know as long as possible. I'm… sorry." He sighed, shaking his head and hanging it down. Nyra looked down at him, at everything he was, everything he was afraid of, and realized the silence had been out of fear, the fear of not knowing how she would react._

"_I think I understand." She murmured softly, tilting his face up. He looked relieved when the words left her lips, and all the tension seemed to seep away from his posture._

"_Ah, good. I'm glad. It's not like I got special treatment for it anyhow. The Arlessa, she heard the rumors being spread about that… that I was Eamons bastard. They weren't true, of course, but they existed, and she hated me for it. So, as soon as she could, off I was shipped to the Chantry." He paused. "I didn't want you to know because… I didn't want you to think differently of me. I didn't know how you would react, and it was _eating_ at me for weeks… I still should have told you sooner. Can you ever forgive me?"_

_Nyra paused for a moment, looking into his eyes. Oh, they were so open and sincere, naïve almost._

"_There's nothing to forgive, Alistair. Next time something's on your mind, never be afraid to tell me. Alright? I'll be there every step of the way." She said soothingly, standing up. He hastily got to his feet and smiled, bowing his head slightly and chuckling._

"_Every step?"_

"_Of course. _Somebody_ needs to teach you to dance."_

~*.*~

He had danced with her in their room, no music playing, just their heartbeats to set a rhythm. Love had been especially quiet, but ever since… she had been a little distant. And whenever Alistair had held Nyra close, Love would seem to diminish instead of flourish.

Nyra _knew_ something was wrong, but for the life of her, she couldn't see what. She needed to _see_, and soon.

So here she was, in the chamber, holding the essence of the tainted flowers in her hands. The crystals had already been set up per her instructions, along with the lyrium and various other ingredients on the podium. She had run to her room to grab her traditional mage robes, finding that if she would be going through this again, she would go back to the beginning. Hopefully, just maybe, she would find what went wrong, and why she felt so dull inside. Why Alistair {wince} stopped loving her.

"I don't know what may become of me… but whatever does, at least my heart can finally rest. One way," she said, just as she poured the taint onto the pile of lyrium. As it started to fizz, she felt the cloying smoke rise and cover her, sending her though her dreams and nightmares, good, bad, and indifferent. The last words, she thought in her mind, but they sounded aloud like a plea for help.

"Or another."

~*.*~

Denerim

Alistair gasped as he awoke.

Everything was as it should be in his room. He tried to assess the threat that had awoken him, but no darkspawn could be felt, seen or heard. No assassins in the closet. The fireplace was still burning warmly, the room in place as it was when he drifted.

But no, there was something wrong. There had to be.

He got up, wincing at the chill of stone on his bare feet. He padded over to his wardrobe and put on his {disgustingly} gold threaded night robe. He paced around the room, checking everything, making sure nothing had been disturbed. After minutes had passed with nothing amiss, he started to worry someone had been at the door. He went to it, checking on his guard briefly. They had nothing to report, looking surprised when he asked if they heard anything. He had started to thinking maybe it was just him when he heard a whisper on the wind, coming from his window.

_I don't know what may become of me…._

He dashed to the window, flinging the tall glass open and glancing around wildly.

…_But whatever does…_

Her voice… it was Nyra's voice. He looked around wildly, staring down as a soft pink glow enwrapped the old vines on the side of walls, settling just beneath the sill. "Nyra?" he asked softly, suddenly feeling a pit drop in his stomach, his heart pounding a mile a minute.

_At least…._

He doubled over in pain, barely catching himself on the window, the glow intensifying.

… _My heart…_

Panic flooded him. He could feel her near, could feel her pain, her heart, smell her floral scent embrace him, feel her tender lips on his.

…_Can finally…_

Her tears, the memories of the tears he caused when he hadn't believed her, when he had accused her of evil things, _dark_ things….

…_rest…_

"Nyra…. Oh, Nyra…." He cried, his tears falling upon the stone, dripping into the glowing substance, onto the wilted vines. He felt her heart shatter as he smote her, and he hadn't cared at all. How in the name of the Maker had he not cared?

_One way…._

"I'm… so… sorry…." He sobbed, eyes tight as he feel back into the room, the window slamming shut behind him. He fell into a fitful sleep, hard and heavy, without any knowledge of what was going on in other places. Leliana and Wynne exchanging stories. Cheryl petting Tiamat, playing with one of her favorite daggers. Zevran in a cloak, traveling on the dark, stormy road. Morrigan lurking the Tower, seducing the men with a simple, tempting smirk. Not Sten devouring cookies, nor Oghren drowning in his own ale.

Not even Nyra, crying, sobbing on the cold hard ground of the Tower, trapped in a nightmare to free herself for good or ill. Nor, as it turned out, did he know of Cullen bursting forth, uttering a cry and scooping her into his arms, rocking her back and forth before falling under some heavy sleep himself.

And no one knew, and never would know, of the single rose that grew from the dead vines at the window of the King, the man who lost everything.

_...Or another..._

Because the Maker had others plans.

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><p>NA Sorry again about the extreme delay. I think I salvaged chapter 5 rather well, and finally found the inspiration to write some more~! However, it would be easier to continue if I had feedback from some of the readers. I had hoped for more in the past 6 months or so, but only one really came forward. Thank you for reading, but remember, reviews fuel me to continue making the best I can! Loves, peace~!


	8. Demonic Love?

**Chapter 6**: This chapter is bound to confuse somebody… or maybe just me. After all, we're in the Fade now~! {just a friendly reminder}. Oh, and I have a twist that is entirely my own as far as I have seen in other stories on the Dragon Age section. Demons…. What if they weren't such utter bitches? So yes, please enjoy~!

* * *

><p>~*.*~<p>

The first thing she noticed upon awakening was the demon hovering over her face, purple flames surrounding the top. Nyra stayed still for a second, looking into the black eyes with the golden shapes in them, staring back steadily at her. Her heart clenched, her nerves shook, and she stayed absolutely still until it spoke.

"Hi there!"

Nyra screamed as she summoned a wall of crushing earth with her bare hands, slamming it into the demon. As it hit, the creature gave an unusually girly squeak of pain and started to struggle a little… girlishly to get back up. Nyra was on her guard now, though, and she got back up with hands flaming. Basic primal magic, but it would serve its purpose until she got her bearings.

"Hey! That wasn't very nice." The demon whined, getting back to its feet and brushing itself off. And it made no move to attack. Nyra studied it as she circled slowly.

It looked like a desire demon, the same hair, the same eyes, and basic body shape. However, there were differences that made little sense to Nyra because demons didn't usually deviate from their specific look. This one was shorter than most desire demons, the size of a child. It had actual clothes on, a dressy robe of the sort that Nyra herself might come up with and wear. Gold and black metal jewelry hung from her like a waterfall, jingling as it, or she, moved. Her flames also had a tint of orange and green to them at the sides.

"You're… you're not going to hurt me, are you? Mama said I really shouldn't talk to strange creatures, but you looked so nice, laying there. And I thought maybe you'd want to play. But not like that." It- or she- made a face at the mound of rubble around her. "I wasn't gonna hurt you, I promise."

"You're a demon." Nyra said in exasperation, glaring at it. It seemed puzzled by the statement.

"Well… yes. What else would I be? Well, a sprite, yes, but I look like a demon, don't I? Huh!" it gasped. "Are you saying I don't look like a demon? But… but what do I look like? Please don't say I look like a Shade, those girls are mean and ratty…."

"You… you look like a desire demon." Nyra said slowly, putting her arms down steadily. The demon's eyes glowed a little and she clapped.

"No one's ever told me that before! Do you really think so? Mama said that desire demons were the prettiest demons of all, but now we're all mixed up. Daddy has some pride blood in him, but he's mostly rage." She smiled, looking down at her toes and playing with the dirt shyly. "Mama is mostly lust with a bit of greed, maybe some old desire blood thrown in."

"I… I don't understand. You have 'parents'?" Nyra asked, staring at the demon girl.

"Well… don't you?" she replied, glancing back up with worry. "How else would I be here?"

"Well, the Maker made you as spirits, and then you turned your back on him, yes? Demons aren't _born_, they're made." She sputtered, gesturing at the demon girl. She took a step back in response.

"The Maker? From the stories? Well, I didn't betray anyone, if that's what you're asking. Well, except Illiria, but she's a meany face anyways. If I didn't, she would have." The demon girl's flames seemed to grow darker as she spoke, then lightened back as she shrugged. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't even really know what you are. Sprite of Peace? Love? You look like a love sprite. In a diluted sort of way."

"I… I'm human."

The moment those words were uttered, the demon girl's eyes became incredibly wide, and she started to back away.

"But… humans don't exist." She shook her head, bumping into a wall of rock and looking around frantically.

"… We don't?" Nyra looked around. "Where in the Fade am I?"

"Near the Black city, in Karsh. We're in the Tainted lands right now, but just at the edge of it. Don't worry, Darkspawn rarely go past the old watchtowers." The girl assured her, then stepped from the wall. She came up really close to Nyra, looking her over, face puzzled. "I expected less… hair. More fire, or tentacles, or maybe even thorns. Hair? Not really."

"Are you really telling me you've never seen a human before? Been in their dreams? Tried to work a deal into the real world and use them as puppets for your own evil desires?" Nyra glared, though she couldn't sense anything off about the girl anymore. There wasn't that usual uneasy breathing or strange nerves on end feeling she usually got around demons.

"Humans… don't exist. Except you. And real world? This is the real world." She took Nyra's hand, examining it carefully, as if afraid to break it some way. "You don't have claws! How do you expect to get boys to like you? First no flames or thorns, now no claws? What next, no fangs? No dark veins? No patches of glowing skin?"

"What are you talking about? Humans don't have any of those things."

"They don't? Wow, no wonder you guys don't exist anymore. You couldn't get boys to marry you and have babies with." She put Nyra's hand down gracefully, skipping around her a few times before settling in front of her once again. "Um… well, I don't know what to do, honestly. If you showed up into town, people will freak. Why are you here?"

"I'm… trying to find someone. A spirit of Love."

"Oh… what's her name?" she asked brightly. I blinked.

Did Love have any other name?

"Um… Love?" I smiled uneasily.

"… Please don't tell me your name is Human." The girl said flatly.

"No, oh no. My name is Nyra… but Love never told me she had any other name. She was just a Spirit of Love." Nyra shrugged. She didn't know how to feel about this just yet, but she decided to give it a chance. The girl was confused again, apparently.

"Why do you keep saying spirit? Don't you mean 'sprite'?"

"I… I don't know anymore." Nyra sighed, sinking to the ground and holding her face. The demon girl seemed concerned, and came forward. She crouched in front of Nyra, resting her chin on her hands.

"If you want, I can help. Mama will know what to do. She always does. And Daddy can help too, but he's probably still working at the docks right now." She offered, holding out her clawed, grey hand. Nyra paused before taking it gingerly. The girl smiled, revealing a perfect smile with a delicate set of fangs, her left one a little longer than the right.

"Ok." She got up looking around her for the first time.

She wasn't in the fade anymore. She couldn't be.

There were no floating isles in the distance, no surreal feeling in the air. It felt warm, unusually warm, with dry land devoid of life for what seemed like miles on one side; the other side held a dark shadow in the distance. Ruins surrounded them, similar in structure to the things she had seen in the Fade, but here they seemed more worn, less preserved. There were plants growing where they could, and a muddy puddle with dark shadows wandering around in it.

"Where are we again? This… seems far different then what I'm used to."

"You're in Karsh, or Dark Country. The Tainted Lands are over there; that's where the darkspawn make their home. They don't raid the city or anything, but they do attack travelers and caravans from the Capital." She pointed to the black shadow in the distance. "That's the Black City, but don't let the looks fool you. It's a lot closer than it appears, and in order to get to that part, you have to go either through the Undercity, or along Pride Path, which is actually a transport to get from ground level to the city without going through the muck. I live in Undercity, the nobles and high trade workers live in the city."

Nyra froze, staring at the shadow of the castle. If that was the black city…

"What makes the city black?" She asked softly, an uneasy feeling growing within her. The demon girl seemed to feel it and she gave her a look of concern.

"It used to be gold, but then some very bad demons worked with some very bad humans. Together, they turned the gold city into black gold. At least, that's what Makra taught us. It's all history, happened thousands of years ago. Black gold and normal gold are mined underneath and around the city, and black gold is probably the most useful. It's really sharp, and darkspawn hate it." She smiled darkly. "One time, darkspawn came this far while I was searching the ruins for anything useful, and they tried to attack. I brought out the dagger Mama gave me and they ran away. It's made entirely from black ore and magicked glitter dust."

"Black gold repels darkspawn?" Nyra murmured, looking at the girls waist. There rested a sheathed dagger, hilt wrapped in gold thread and tipped with a shimmering black metal.

"Sure does. Its why they never raid the city. Come on, I'll tell ya anything you want to know on the way. It'll take us a while to get there." She tugged at Nyra's hand briefly, then walked on. Nyra almost laughed, picturing what they'd look like to a templar. A mage and a demon, walking peacefully and holding hands. Unusually warm hands, Nyra found.

"Why were you out here?" she asked first, glancing down at the young demon girl.

"Oh, the ruins have a lot of artifacts and pretty things. Most of the jewelry and adash'aki I'm wearing came from them." She looked up, seeing Nyra's confused face. "Oh, adash'aki are pieces of metal with runes on them. They have a little kick to them, but mine aren't very powerful. Go to the city and you'll find plenty of good runes. Anyways, I always find interesting things out here."

"Don't your… parents think it's dangerous?"

"Daddy hates it when I come out here, but Mama says I'm a big girl, and I can take care of myself. I'm first in my fire class. I can set _anything_ on fire. And I do mean anything." She smiled. "But yeah, I find good things down here, and if there's something I don't want, we sell it to help make things easier on Mama and Daddy. It's not easy, living in the Undercity."

"Hm… so Karsh is the country, right?" the demon girl hummed and nodded. "Then if this is a country, then the others are…?"

"There's really only one other, with smaller tribal areas called countries around us. The largest of the small areas is called Tir Vanugra, the winding castle, and it seceded from the Dophan government. Dophan is the other country, home of the Sprites. Tir Vanugra is the clockwork castle, and everything and everyone inside it is a machine. They used to be used for slave labor, but they had a little revolution a couple of decades ago that freed them. Dophan is home to the new Golden City. That's where most sprites go." She said, stopping for a moment to pick something up from the ground. "Ooh, someone left a gold piece behind."

"Hm… Dophan…." Nyra suddenly felt overwhelmed, stopping in the middle of the road they had found. If this all wasn't some trick, if this place actually existed… then everything the Chantry stood for was a lie. This demon girl didn't seem anything like her sinister counterparts, and this place, this world, felt nothing like the Fade. Nothing like it had ever been mentioned in the hundreds of books she read, nothing from instructors or magicians anywhere in Ferelden. Demons were pure evil. Demons wanted to kill or enslave humans out of jealousy of what they had.

And yet here was a demon girl, not a spark of evil or seduction to be seen, insisting that she had a family and lived amongst other families. Demonic families.

"I don't think you wanna go to Dophan. The sprites there might be mean to a human. After all, your people made our city like it is. And they're high and mighty and really snooty. Especially sprites of knowledge. They're so full of themselves it makes you want to throw up." The girl made a face. "Anything else you want to know about?"

"I just realized I don't know your name." Nyra smiled slowly, looking down at the girl. The girl's cheeks seemed to literally glow violet, and her hair seemed to smolder down to a darker violet color. Nyra realized that it was her version of blushing, whether from anger or shyness.

"Well, mama named me after a daemoness called Namira. My names Nami. It's a family name… but it's kind of ok, yeah?" she looked up with hopeful eyes, dark and glittering with slivers of gold in them. Nyra smiled at her and reached her hand out again.

"It's the prettiest."

Nami smiled, flashing her slight fangs and giggling, taking Nyra's hand and skipping along the road, towards the looming shadow of the dark city above them.

~*.*~

"Wow." Nyra murmured softly, looking at the Undercity from the hill they were on.

It was a bustling city bigger than Denerim, with a large market place near the busy port, and many houses and buildings closer to the Black City. It looked far better than Denerim, not a slum in sight, and no dirty alienage walled off from the rest of the city. There was actually a sun close to the horizon, casting a dusky glow on the water.

If this was still the Fade, then Nyra felt she was a fairy.

"Um… hold on up here, ok? I'll be back in a couple of minutes. I don't know what people will do if they see you like… this. You'll stand out." Nami let go of her hand, looking her over briefly. "I'll go get you some makeup to cover your skin, and then a robe to hide… everything."

And with that, the girl sprinted down the hill and off into the crowd. Nyra sat down behind a rock the size of a golem and sighed. She closed her eyes for a minute, letting everything sink in more, trying to get a hold of her surroundings. She couldn't distinguish many shapes from the people below, but she saw a lot of different colored flames for hair. And the occasional dark blot in the crowd, maybe a shade or two.

Relaxing, she let her mind drift to her tasks. She needed to find out how to get to Love, and she needed to find a way back home. She couldn't just wake up after she was done with her goals, like she would have if she was actually in the Fade. And that lack of control scared her. What if the templars found her in a few hours, and decided to treat it like a Harrowing?

"Nyra? Where'd you go?" Nami's voice called out, panting and slightly out of breath. She got up from behind her cover, waving the demon girl forward. Nami's smile dazzled her, and she came up to her with a bundle of grey cloth, the occasional red gracing it. There seemed to be a few jars and a brush amongst the folds.

"Is that the makeup?" Nyra asked, picking it up and examining the contents. It seemed like a fine dust, and when she pinched it, it seemed to flow over her skin like water.

"Yep. Normally, it blends really well with demons who have a high temperature, but I figured you'd be warmer than a shade or a sloth demon. See? It blends well. You'll be like me!" she took the robe and put it in Nyra's hands, setting the jars and brush down. "Here, put this over your clothes. It breathes nicely, so you don't have to worry about getting too hot down there. There we go, it fits nicely. Hm… we'll have to make sure none of your hair shows. Demons rarely have hair, and if you did you'd get too much attention. Pride demons have it, but there aren't many females, and the guys would flock to you. We don't want that, unfortunately."

"Right. Pride demons, wouldn't want them to flock over me." The mage smiled, pulling her hair back and raising the hood up. Nami stopped her briefly.

"But, just in case, let's dye it a darker color. At least temporarily. Here, lets cover your skin first, then use the rest to dye." She took the brush and started to dust it over Nyra's hands. The mage looked on in shock as the makeup actually _melted_ to blend into her skin. It felt completely natural, and didn't make her want to itch or anything. "It doesn't come off with anything but soap, so you don't have to worry. Mkay, now your face."

"Thank you." She said, closing her eyes and letting the girl dust her face with the powder.

"No problem. Ooh, that's a nice shade of burgundy. You make a really pretty pride demon, you know? I wonder what color your hair will turn. Most pride demons have black hair with red stripes, but you look like you'll be dark purple. Mkay, you can open your eyes now." Nyra did, watching as the girl pulled out a water skin, pouring some into the remnants of the jar. It formed a thin liquid the color of a night sky, dark blue with black streaks. "Okay, um… over there! Rest your head on the rock and I'll get to work."

Nyra did as she was told, and after a few second felt a warm liquid being trickled over her scalp, covered her hair. Nami obviously knew what she was doing, working it into her hair without spilling any on her face or neck.

"You seem to know what you're doing." Nyra commented. Nami giggled.

"I would hope so. Mama owns the best makeup and beauty shop in town. We even have a stall set up in the Market, where a lot of people prefer to go to get their things. Mama's always loved beauty, and she helps other demons go with the look they want, or the look that's best for them. I want to run the store some day, and I sometimes get to take over the stall on Jaf'das and Lor'das." She chattered, and there was great pride and happiness in her voice. "Mama trusts me to do what's best for the clients, after all."

"That's good. I bet you'll add some of your own flairs here and there." Nyra smiled, closing her eyes at the feeling. She should have been alert, but she had no reason to believe this girl wanted to hurt her.

"Well, actually, Mama hadn't considered using the makeup as a dye. And it works beautifully. That was my idea, and it's made a lot of coin in the past few months."

"Hm… oh, what are Jaf'das and Lor'das?"

"Oh, um… well, Jaf'das is the second day of the week, and Lor'das is the last, or the eighth. There's four weeks in a month, and thirteen months in a year." The girl responded, a note of curiosity in her voice. "Is that not the time you use where you come from?"

"No, we just have seven days a week, and twelve months a year. And there are different names for the days." Nyra opened her eyes. "The farmers tend to just go by seasons, and the Chantry keeps to holidays more often than the actual date."

"Chantry? What's that?" the girl asked, sprinkling more of the powder onto Nyra's damp hair.

"Oh… well, do you have a religion?"

"There's a lot of daemon lords that are worshipped, yes. Namira is one of them, and she's our houses protector. Is the Chantry a daemon lord?" she started to stroke Nyra's hair methodically, pulling the powder through and distributing it evenly.

"Well, not exactly. We worship the Maker, who created us all, and … it's really rather complicated. They keep mages under guard to prevent them from trying to take over the world." She stated dryly. "And to protect the world from bad demons. They don't even know this kind of place exists…."

"Really? Well, I guess it isn't so strange. I haven't heard any stories of a world where humans existed, only that they came and did bad things, and then a shining human came in and kicked them out. It's an old story, though, and a lot of pieces are gone." She stopped suddenly, pulling back and smiling. She brushed her hands off on her skirt and beamed at her work. "And there we go! All done."

"Really? Hm…" Nyra looked for a hollow area, finding a dent in a rock to her left. She got up and started to cast a spell for water, sucking the moisture from the ground and allowing a trickle of clear water to wander over the ground and over the rock. As it seeped into the hollow, Nyra looked in her reflection and gasped.

Her face was the same color as Nami's, a smooth grey with the occasional dark streak. She had more violet shades around her lips and under her eyes, and her shining silver eyes beamed out from them. Her brows were dark burgundy, and her cheeks were a lighter shade. Her hair was a dark violet with streaks of burgundy in the locks, framing her face and her neck casually, some curls added in haphazard areas.

She looked pretty close to a demon.

"If people ask about your eyes, just say you got them from a magical experiment, and they allow you to see darkspawn. Most darkspawn hunters have them, so silver eyes are rare, and in the city, you shouldn't have to worry about darkspawn to prove it true." Nami suggested, coming up to Nyra and fluffing her hair a bit. "Hm… pride demons usually wear things in their hair. Good thing I always have extra adash'aki, yeah?"

"Oh no, you don't have to do that. I wouldn't want to accidentally damage them." Nyra bit her lip, watching as the girl started to unclip pieces from her clothes. She waved her protests off and reached up to clip some into Nyra's hair, and one on her robes.

"Don't worry about it. It makes you look the part, yeah? And wow, we'll have to beat off demons with a stick. Hm… nope, nothing showing. You can actually keep your hood down. Other demons tend to treat pride demons with respect 'cause they're ruthless when pissed." She smiled. "Okay, you're ready. Hm… if a demon grabs you, lash out and beat the crap out of him. You're pretty strong with magic, so that'll do, but if you can manage to knock him off his feet without it, you'll earn more respect. The docks aren't exactly a civil place, but it's best if I introduce you to dad first. Mama gets protective sometimes… and we don't want you to be blown to smithereens, no?"

"No, thank you." I grimaced, taking that in. "Wouldn't the authorities have a problem with me using magic on someone though?"

"Um, Nyra? This is the docks. The only authorities are the bosses of the businesses and the guards at the main gate. And they don't give two wisps about what goes on in the streets. Trust me, if you need to defend yourself, defend yourself. Just try not to kill, that's normally frowned upon down here." She glanced to the sun. "Come on. Dad gets off an hour after sunset, so we need to hurry to him."

Nami smiled and started to walk down the hill again, and this time Nyra went with her.

After a few minutes, they encountered a gate with two guards, both with large claws and hulking over Nyra as she came close. They were wearing very little armor, but what they did have on gleamed like the black gold on Nami's dagger. They were a mottled green color, spikes occasionally peeking out from their joints. Nami's eyes widened and she leaned up to whisper to Nyra, "They're rage demons. Tell them you've come a long way from Tir Vanugra. That'll get you in."

"Halt. You there, who are you? What is your business here?" one of them growled, literally growled at her. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and then opened them narrowly, walking up to him {she hoped it was a him}.

"I've come from Tir Vanugra. My business is my own, and you would do well not to interfere with it." She murmured softly, but with a hint of malice in her tone. The demon's eyes widened from beneath its glittering helmet, and it stood in a salute.

"I apologize, Magister. Please, come in. Is this your apprentice?"

"No, she inhabits the city. A distant relative, come to greet me." She said coolly, then smiled brightly at Nami. "Now if that is all, we must get to the market. It has been a long journey, and I could do well with some food, yes?"

"Of course, Aunty Nyra." Nami took her hand, smiling at her. As they passed the guards, who were still stiff and upright, the demon girl giggled. "Did I mention you make a really good pride demon? You had them wetting their undergarments."

"Oh, good. I wasn't sure if that was what I was supposed to do, I just went along with it. And I couldn't have done it without you." She smiled, touching her face softly. "This makeup is amazing."

"Mom's special recipe. It's the reason we're the best in Undercity. Hm… were you really hungry? We could go through the market if you want." She offered, pointing over at the bustling bodies.

"Oh no, I was just acting. Though… I'd like to see this market, if it's okay."

"Oh sure! come on, I'll take you through main street. It's the biggest place and not as shady as the side stalls." She dropped Nyra's hand and beckoned, and the mage followed the girl into the throng of demons.

There were dozens of different types she had never seen before. Some were human in shape, with fire or thorns for hair. Some seemed to be half plant, or half beast, and others had darker aspects to them. Scales, tufts of fur, the occasional tentacles on the head, some feathers here and there. Colors from acid green to the light shaded grey that Nyra herself had adopted. Many of them had on dirty clothes, mostly men, and some women {at least she was thinking they were} were wearing similar robes to her.

The items sold around her were dazzling and gruesome, cheap or expensive. A butcher had a stall set up to their right, his skin emanating a chilled aura as he created ice to put his kills on, beckoning other demons forward with a knife bigger than Nami herself. She saw weapon stalls, armor pieces in several colors and materials, and book vendors along the way. The food she saw looked strange, fruits and vegetables shed never seen or heard of before, animals that looked more like monsters than livestock. Shiny baubles and the adash'aki Nami had introduced her to were scattered amongst the stalls, all intricate and interwoven pieces of black gold with runes upon them. Nyra was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of _things_ around her, most if not all unfamiliar.

"This is the market, in all its glory." Nami gestured, her claws extended delicately outwards. Nyra smiled, following her through the crowd. Now, Nyra felt a little edgy, and the uneasy breathing was starting to come about. Whether it was from the sheer number of bodies or the fact they were all demons, she didn't know. She just kept her magic at the ready, her head held high, and very close to Nami.

Which of course meant that somebody had to bump into her and separate the two.

"Hey, watch where you walk, you blighted wench!" a rough, deep male voice growled at her. Nyra looked up sharply, fear crawling up her throat until she bit it back.

The demon, or group of demons, she had bumped into all looked related somehow. They had dark grayish skin, with traces of light violet veins around their eyes and the most human characteristics she had seen thus far. They were all male, and dressed in strangely fitting and clean clothing, most of it black with black gold finishing. They were fit and muscular, emanating a composed and proud demeanor. Most of the men had black hair with red and violet streaks in them, and they all had goatees and dark red eyes.

Except the leader. He had the goatee, but his veins were burgundy while his eyes were an eerie golden color, with darker streaks of burgundy in his more velvet colored hair. He wore more red on his clothing, and his skin was darker. He also stood taller than the rest, his back straight.

They looked a _lot_ like she did; they must be pride demons.

"Call me a blighted wench again. I dare you." Nyra said calmly, even sweetly as she gazed back with determination. The other men started to murmur excitedly, but a cough from the leader brought them back to cool silence.

"I apologize, miss, I was unaware of your status. I merely saw the robes and figured you were of common blood." He purred, anger vanishing as he took her hand and kissed it. "We were unaware a sister of pride was unspoken for in this city of ours."

"Oh? Who is to say I am unspoken for, then?" Nyra asked calmly, heart beating faster. Her lack of knowledge was making her far too nervous; if she said the wrong thing, she might get herself killed. However, the demon, or man, seemed to feel her pulse and smiled roguishly.

"If you were spoken for, your mate would ne'er dare to let you out without an escort. And, of course, you have no house emblem upon your person." He smiled, revealing a perfectly gleaming set of teeth… with fangs that flashed out when he smiled. "What is a lovely daemoness such as yourself doing amongst the common rabble?"

"I could ask similarly of you, kind sir." She looked around pointedly at the men. The leader laughed and shook his head.

"We have had business with the local shipments as of late. We deal in black gold and stars, naturally. But you haven't answered my question, Madame." He purred again, an accent roiling up from his lips. Almost a mix of Free Marsh and… Orlesian?

"I was with my niece before I was separated by a rather large group of … demons." She really didn't know whether it was safe to call them men, for fear of them thinking it strange or uncommon. The leader looked confused for a moment.

"Niece? But there are no unspoken for pride daemonessa in this city." He looked around. "Unless you brought her from…?"

"Tir Vanugra. On official business." She frowned. "Business you are starting to interfere with."

The man seemed taken aback briefly, and then started to argue. However, before he could utter a word, one of his friends put a hand on his shoulder and whispered into his ear. He looked shocked before he peered intently at her face, surprise emanating from his own.

"Your eyes are… unusually colorless, Madame." He commented, an inquiring and… interested look in his own yellow eyes. Nyra retained her composure and decided to set her hands on fire, just a few small flickers.

"The better to see darkspawn with. Now, if you'll excuse me, my time is precious, and you have given me nothing to assume spending more time here will be beneficial to me or my duties." She sniffed and turned away, aiming to walk around him. Naturally, he would step in her way. His eyes started to glitter red in there centers, strangely off balancing his naturally yellow tint.

"But my dear, surely a pureblood such as yourself would be seeking others of your kind." He bowed, smirking with charm. The mage flushed from irritation and the flames on her hands grew.

"I lose my patience." She said, voice rising. People looked up from their shopping to see what the commotion was about, and the pride demons before her smiled, looking at their leader. He seemed to be even smug!

"Your hands tell us otherwise, Madame." He murmured, drawing closer.

Nyra could have almost kicked herself for her ignorance. Before she could say something to bury her in an even deeper hole, a girl's voice rang out from the crowd.

"Aunty Nyra! There you are!" Nami exclaimed, working its way through the crowd and finally breaking through, her flaming hair bright and such a welcome sight, Nyra almost sighed in relief. As it was, she merely smiled thinly and beckoned her forward.

"I apologize dear, I ran into unwelcome company. I was about to deal with them when you arrived." She smiled, keeping her teeth concealed. Everyone around her had sharp teeth, so it was better that way.

"Oh. Was Sir Kraven bothering you?" she asked sweetly, looking up at the leader. He looked shocked, maybe even more confused than before, and a little disgusted.

"Bothering her? I was merely introducing myself. Madame… Nyra, is it? I was unaware you were related to such a family as those under Namira. It is… unexpected. Regardless, I wish to state a claim if you will accept." He looked back down at her hands, still flaming, and smiled. "Which it seems you have."

"What? Oh no, her hands tend to flame before she kills something." Nami, the darling, beautiful demon girl said sweetly, looking up at Nyra with adoration. Sir Kraven chuckled.

"Blood thirsty? What a delicious trait. I assure you, our children with be the brightest and most powerful demons of pride this side of the fissure." He purred once again, his eyes turning completely blood red. Nami took one of Nyra's hands, seeming unbothered by the flames and started to lead her away.

"Perhaps another time." Nami said, a nervous tone finally entering her voice. The men around Kraven chuckled softly. Nyra had had enough, however, and felt that she could risk open aggression. If flames didn't make them see, maybe ice would.

She shut off the flames, causing the pride demons to flicker their gaze to them, mirth suddenly lost, and then Nyra stepped away from Nami and walked towards Kraven. He still smiled, though it was more curious than seductive. She looked at him, up and down, glanced back up at his dark face and smiled.

With teeth.

"You were warned." She purred right back at him, hands erupting in a torrent of ice, causing the air around her to drop rapidly. Before Kraven could so much as take a step, she allowed three small boulders of ice to form, drew them to her hand, and pushed out toward the man.

He was sent flying into a wall several feet away, and several feet up high.

"Would anyone else care to stand in my way?" She asked calmly, looking around her. Everyone seemed to take a step back and allowed her to pass them without hindrance, murmuring quietly. She walked over to Kraven and watched as he got up and brushed himself off. She kept her ice at the ready, but faltered when the demon simply chuckled softly and brought his hand up to hers, kissing the back of it and smirking deviously at her.

"You simply must come up to the city. Oh no, worry not, you obviously do have business to attend to, and i have no wish to interfere. However, please, if you would put some small time away, perhaps one evening, it would bring my hall great pleasure to invite you for a… party, of sorts. We haven't had occasion to celebrate in nigh a hundred or so years." He kissed her hand once more, bowing, and nodded his head to the other pride demons. They sauntered over with casual grace and bowed their heads to her, following Kraven as he backed away with a charming smile. "I do hope you will, Madame Nyra. It could be _very_ beneficial for both of us."

And with that, Nyra was left standing next to Nami and a slowly melting ice puddle.

"I expected more… resistance." She finally responded, and Nami just shrugged.

"You're a female pride demon. Males bow to your whim. It happens." She said happily, winking when she called the mage a demon. "As he said, there aren't many of the pride sisters here in Karsh. Pride demons prefer to stay pure blooded, but it becomes increasingly difficult when the only ones born are males. Most of the younger ones branch off to noble blood of other demons, while the oldest tries to hold out for a pure blood to come along. Kraven is the oldest, so naturally, he'd aim for your affection."

"He seemed to like egging me on." Nyra huffed, following the demon girl to the edge of the market, towards the docks. Nami laughed.

"Fire normally means desire amongst pride clans. I should have warned you… I honestly didn't think there would be any pride demons down here. Kraven only comes rarely, and he hates lounging in the Undercity… I'm sorry." She sighed sadly. Nyra patter her shoulder and smiled.

"Don't worry about it. I just hope I don't run into them again. C'mon, let's go find your dad." She chewed her lip delicately. "How are we going to explain me to him?"

"Oh, that'll be easy. Dad is pretty laid back about most things, and he'll probably just be shocked before accepting it. Mama, on the other hand… she'll probably be 'concerned' at the very least." Nami waved at a few passing demons that looked like giant lizards before turning back to face Nyra. "Ok, my dad is over there, so here's what you need to do. Smile nicely and keep your hands where he can see them. Preferably not on fire."

"Hands down, smile, and no fire. Ok." She nodded, following the girl around the crates and demons working on hauling them in. they stopped in front of a man writing things down on a ledger, adding coins into a large box laid out before him.

He looked to be about a foot taller than Nyra, not particularly built, slim really. He had some scales on his arms and his cheeks, and tufts of fur surrounding the edges of them and spiking back along the top of his head. He was mostly grey in color aside from some green in the scales and some red in the hair, and his eyes were completely black with gold and crimson sparks around the iris. He had more bestial claws than his daughters delicate ones, and they were holding the quill poised over parchment as he raised a curious brow at them.

"Nami, I told you I'd be working a little later." He darted his eyes to Nyra. "And who is this? I was unaware there was an unspoken for pride sister in the city."

"Um, well, daddy, there… isn't. Do you get off work soon?" she smiled nervously, her larger fang bothering her lip. Her father looked back to Nyra before slowly putting away the books and the box, stoppering the ink and setting the quill aside with order.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well… this is Nyra. I found her outside the city, and she's… really special." Nami giggled, the hilarity in her voice dripping off every word.

"Special? What is so very special in particular about miss Nyra?" he asked. When he didn't get an answer, he sighed and turned to the mage herself. "Could you inform me of what my daughter is _trying_ to say that I may not like?"

Nyra opened her mouth to speak, but, finding no other way to put it, simply told the truth.

"I'm human."

~*.*~

"Your mother will not take this so well. Though, knowing her, she's already heard about that fiasco in the market." Drajil warned his daughter. After the initial step back and shock when she showed him her clear, human skin on her arms, he calmed down considerably and simply nodded. He introduced himself properly, giving his daughter a stern scolding over how she shouldn't meddle in things she knew nothing about, and then asked the mage if she wished to join them for dinner.

"I know daddy, that's why I wanted you to know first, so Mama might not get so upset." Nami whined a little, pouting up at her father. The demon simply rolled his eyes and opened the door for them.

"Namina, dearest, we have a guest." He announced, ushering them both in and closing the door behind him. Nyra could have sworn she heard it lock. Silence answered them, and Drajil paused. "Namina?"

"I am in the kitchen." A beautiful voice said dangerously. Nyra glanced at both of the demons beside her and felt dread well up from looking at their faces. Nami's eyes were wide and she was looking at Nyra with fear. Drajil winced and frowned, sighing as he ushered them on to the kitchen.

It was more of a large fireplace with comfortable chairs and rugs before it. There were cupboards and a long counter on one side of the room, full of cooking utensils and various other things Nyra had never seen before, and everything seemed to be a rustic wooden color. Sitting in a large armchair, facing them, was a woman with a large butcher knife in hand.

Where her daughter had differences from a desire demon, this woman had only two. Her hair was green and yellow flame, and her skin was tinted more green and gold hued than a proper desire demons. She wore similar sleeves with the ruffles, but they were actually attached to the dress she wore, faded white with gold trim and a _lot_ of adash'aki adorning her person. She was glaring at them sullenly, but there was a wry smirk on her face that seemed to calm her family down. When she spoke, there was even a hint of laughter in her voice, similar to ones she heard when she was being attacked by the darker desires.

"So, Aunty Nyra, will you be staying for supper? I promise we won't try to enter your dreams or steal your body." She smiled openly then, her eyes glowing with mirth and she laughed lightly as she got up to put the knife away, turning and embracing the mage warmly.

Apparently, Mama was ok with her.

~*.*~

Meanwhile, in a darker part of the city above, in a dungeon cell below the castle, a glowing spirit of Passion wept over her sister Love. Passion herself looked like her sister, all but for the red hair and the sharp green eyes.

"Love… what have you done?" she sobbed, brushing the blond spirits hair from her clammy forehead. She smiled weakly and shook her head.

"I did what I had to, to make sure she wouldn't suffer for my mistakes." She sighed before passing out from the pain. Passion sobbed harder, holding her sister close and praying to the Maker that she heal and awake.

But the Maker had plans, and he kept to them sternly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** Yay! Chapter 6 is up~! Please please, review if you can! Review feed my ideas for this story and my inspiration to go on, and even a little "oh, I loved this chapter!" or "oh, well, this chapter was ok" helps! Oh, and should you read this chapter about a couple of days after it was posted, check out my newer story, "What's a Mage to Do?". It's a Male Amell with a love triangle of Anders and Cullen. I know it might not be for everyone, but I wanted a little something for me, so… yes. Enjoy if you wish~!


	9. The Love of a Family

Just a little note, What's a Mage To Do? Has been postponed for a bit. I need to get this one updated as a priority, but it'll be up soonish. I truly am sorry I don't update more often; I have no clue why. GhostNora and I talk about it all the time, and all we came up with is that we're generally busy and somewhat lazy people. We're so sorry!

However, it has been suggested that I make a handful of stories and update them as the mood catches me. I tend to get bored with one simple story if I stay with it too long. So, in order to get maybe a little help, I'd like to know your opinions on the matter. At the end of this chapter, I'll have three or four choices of stories to go with, and depending on what I hear in messages or reviews, I'll pick the top two. Thank you for your support!  
>This chapter is a little short, but the next one should make up for it.<p>

* * *

><p>~*.*~<p>

Nyra had no idea that this world could ever exist.

There was a hierarchy, government, different classes of wealth and demons, and an organized level of civility in the city. The market in Undercity was like a bazaar, while the markets in the Black City were similar to those she had visited in Denerim. There were noble families with great prestige, as well as servants to service them. Shades appeared to be in the position of elves here, though treated somewhat better because of their strength in magic. Demons of Pride and Greed tended to be the wealthiest, while the demons of wrath, envy, lust, and all the minor mixes were the common folk.

And the magic! Everyone in the city had some aptitude for it! Not being born with magic in this world was like being born a mage in her own world; it was feared and cast away. The streets were filled with goods the merchants had enchanted themselves, and the few clinics that Nami told her about were all healer based, making the Black City one of the healthiest and cleanest of places.

Religion was powerful here, but no one frowned upon each other's beliefs. All of them held stock in different Daemons or Daemoness, but they all held on to what they called a 'pantheon'. In other words, all of their gods held court and worked together. If one chose not to abide by the gods, it was minor; maybe a few frowns, but nothing more.

The food was different, but had similar properties and tastes. The Strahl beast that Namina had cooked for them tasted like a mix between chicken and lamb. It was just as common, too.

Namina herself took hours during the meal and after to explain the demon world to her, describing the changes in what Nyra knew from her world to the reality of Namina's. Though the world was called Fade, they called their dream world the Fading, where barren landscapes and rogue monsters roamed. The monsters didn't try to possess them; on the contrary, the demons had mastered the ability to summon them into their own world briefly and control them.

"This is too much." She gave a small gasp, clutching at her temples for a few seconds. Drajil and Nami looked at her with concern, and Namina smiled grimly.

"I have seen flashes of your world through our matron, Namira. I can see where you have a hard time believing in this one." She got up and collected the long since eaten dishes, taking them to a pot in the corner to soak. "In your world, demons are the spirits that try their best to possess and control magic users; in our world, those spirits take the form of monsters we fear. Maybe our realities are similar enough to clash a little too well. Regardless, the rules have changed."

"But how did you get here?" Drajil hissed questioningly. He looked a little uncomfortable. "Because half of your story about our world makes sense, but the rest of it seems… off."

"I used a ritual to help me find Love in the Fade. Apparently, I skipped the Fade and came right into this world. You call them sprites, right?" Nyra asked, and her hostess murmured an agreement. "Well, I know the spell was supposed to bring me to her, so she has to be in this city. She told me herself that it would work."

"Maybe she's in the Golden City?" Nami suggested. Namina shook her head.

"No, I think not. Namira as my witness, I have the feeling that your spirit of Love is here. However, I believe she may be in danger. She would have met you if she could have." Namina sighed. "I am not sure how I can help you, but while you are in this world, you have a place to rest with us if you wish. It is not every day that the Daemons send us a human to aid."

"Thank you. I honestly don't know how to repay you, but if there was anything you needed, please, let me know." She blushed lightly, bowing her head. Namina simply clucked and gestured delicately with her hands.

"There is no need, _mi jana_. I am delighted to know you." The woman laughed charmingly, and Nami smiled happily.

"Can she stay in my room? Please!" she begged, looking up at her mother before glancing back at Nyra. "Please Mama?"

"It is up to Miss Nyra, child. She is most likely exhausted, though, so please allow her some rest if she does." Namina chuckled lightly before looking up at the mage. "Are you alright with this?"

"Certainly." She smiled back at the girl, and they both got up. Nami beamed brightly up at her and grabbed her hands, pulling her towards the hallway to the side.

"My rooms really big and daddy got me a _huge_ bed!" she giggled, skipping along and opening the door at the end of the hall. As Nyra stepped inside, she found herself staring curiously at the incredible amount of fabric hanging around the walls and around a giant rounded bed. Reds, blacks, violets, burgundies, all somewhat dark colors were hung up, and the dresser in the corner was covered in slightly lighter blues and purples. A table against the wall near her bed had various jars and brushes piled in them, with a few stands of adash'aki hanging off the wall behind it.

It looked like it definitely belonged to a girl like Nami. Which brought up another puzzling question.

"Hey, Nami?" the girl hummed back, looking up at her with her black and gold eyes. "How old are you?"

"Oh, I'm almost seventeen years old." She seemed to deflate a little as she said it, sighing slightly and jumping into the pile of cloth on her bed. She curled up around in it and looked up at her, only her head and flaming hair visible amongst what Nyra took to be blankets. She smiled softly and went over to the demon girl, scooting up next to her.

"Why do you sound like that's not a good thing?"

"Well… um, normally? We marry by the time we're sixteen. Sometimes there are late bloomers… and sometimes there are just no matches to be made." She frowned, her little fang popping out the side and adding to her dejected visage.

"Oh, I'm sorry sweetling… I didn't mean to bring up anything bad." Nyra murmured, but Nami just shook her head and smiled grimly.

"It's ok. Mama said she'll find me a demon in the city if she has to. If I marry someone up there, it'll make things easier on mom and dad. Mama said she won't settle for anything less than a Pride demon." She giggled behind her hand, and Nyra looked at her with confusion before she explained. "Um, Pride demon? They would never dare go out of their class system… you know?"

"Oh, well… what kind of demons do you like? What's attractive to you?" Nyra asked, turning to face her entirely. Nami blinked before smiling and jumping up a little.

"Honestly? I like the ones with hair. I mean, it's not common, and I've only ever seen it from afar… before today. And did you see some of Kraven's brothers? They're so handsome… But I'd settle for any demon that's worth his salt and at least looks like he can do heavy labor. I like a kind man with… with a sharp face. Both meanings." She smirked. "I dunno, I've never really thought about it. In my head, I just see a kind of different version of dad in a noble demons clothes, coming down here with a smirk on his face and saying 'Excuse me miss, but I seem to be at a disadvantage; I have never seen such beauty in my life, and I cannot allow it to exist without me'." She giggled, and Nyra chuckled softly back at her.

"I hope you get him. Never give up; I'm sure he's looking for you right now, but doesn't know it yet." She smiled, yawning a little. Nami gave her an inquiring look.

"Bed time?" she asked, and Nyra shook her head.

"No, I'm fine." She said, but yawned a little when she spoke. Nami simply shook her head and smiled.

"Come on, time for bed sleepy head. We can talk about demons and boys tomorrow; you've been through a lot today." She said, rearranging the bed a little and lying back down. She waved her hands at the lanterns on the wall, and they dimmed considerably before puffing out. "Night night, Nyra. Dream of stars."

"Night Nami. Dream of your prince."

* * *

><p>~*.*~<p>

Cullen was, to put it ever so lightly, confused.

One minute he's holding Nyra, the next he's stuck in the Fade, surrounded by empty space and these silly little _glowy_ things.

It took him an hour to come up with that as a description.

Little balls of light floated around him, glowing and moving, changing colors and making strange little sighing sounds. He didn't dare touch them, but they seemed to want to stay close to him. Every once in a while he would hear what sounded like a voice come from one, but it didn't last more than a few seconds.

He was stuck and he could find a way out.

"What to do, what to do…" he sighed. The first hour or so he had been afraid he was trapped by demons. He kept that fear up for hours, what felt like days, but demons never came. The glowy things just kept on floating, making little noises and giving off enough light to be noticed. When it became obvious that no demons would appear, he gave up his defensive stance and laid back, staring into the blank and empty sky.

At this moment, however, the sky was suddenly not very blank. A black dot was growing in the distance. Cullen hastily got to his feet, grabbing his sword and getting into a defensive stance. The black dot kept growing, soon turning into a visible shape. Wings, tail, long neck, large head with what looked like a crown….

A dragon. A bloody _dragon_ was coming for him in the Fade.

"Fantastic." He growled, preparing himself for the inevitable. However, he wasn't prepared for the dragon to shift and change into a brilliant display of light as it neared the ground a few yards in front of him. The lights and sounds distracted him slightly until they formed a more solid figure on the ground.

A woman with the face of an elderly woman came towards him, violet and dark purple leather armor fitted to her form. Her hair was pulled up into random chunks on either side of her head, tied together by cords of leather and white with age. There was a slight purple cape raggedly following her, adding an air of mystery to her powerful form.

Even here, Cullen knew her as a mage.

"What have we here? It seems that somebody's a long way from home." The woman cackled softly, coming up to him, observing him as she came to a stop. He narrowed his eyes in concentration and met hers. He felt a little startled as he recognized the glowing eyes of a predator crinkled up, laughing at him.

"You are a witch of the wilds." He gasped, stepping back warily. She cackled even louder as he did so.

"Have you been speaking to my Morrigan? It seems everyone knows her these days. She fancies such tales, you know; oh, how she dances under the moon…." The woman chuckled, staring off into the distance before snapping her attention back to him, serious and possibly _angry_. "Yet it does not explain how a simple templar could have reached the very edges of the Fade. Only mages with great power can come here."

"Like you?" he retorted, though he tried to speak humbly. She nodded, ignoring his jab.

"Indeed. Or the Warden, Amell." The woman stared at him before her eyes widened. "I thought so. You were with her when she preformed that fool hardy ritual. Bah, it would seem I have more to do tonight than I had planned."

"How do you know of the ritual? You can't be anywhere near the tower." He paused as she snorted and shook her head. "What?"

"My dear boy, knowledge is not bound by location, it is bound by ones desire to attain it. I wanted to know what happened when the veil shifted, when the Archdemon was slain. Something changed in the world that shouldn't have changed at all. A spirit of Love had been aiding the warden, and something went wrong when she cast the final spell against the Archdemon." She sighed before she picked up a pebble from the dreary landscape. "She has crossed the dream world into its true reality; what we know of as the Fade is merely a transitioning point. Very few mages have been able to cross over into it. The Tevinter Imperium managed to, but they were, oh, shall we say expelled from the city? The price for their darkness was to be turned into the darkspawn."

Cullen's eyes widened as he took in the implications of her words. "What will happen to Nyra in the world you speak of? If the Tevinters failed to survive it, what-"

"Have you witnessed her body manifest lyrium?" she asked, and he nodded thoughtfully. "Imagine that happening all over her body. Her heart, her bones, skin, muscle, blood, all crystal. She would be powerful, and she would begin a new breed of abomination. The darkspawn, in their own rights, are the product of abominations turned into a species. Most abominations in our world simply look hideous and are killed rather quickly, are they not?"

"Yes…" he murmured, eyeing her carefully as she crushed the pebble in her palm and sprinkled the dust around her.

"They are imperfect; they cannot breed. Darkspawn can." She looked up at him with shrouded eyes, her mouth turned down in a grim frown. What she said was terrible, yet true.

What she implied left him with the urge to vomit.

"Are you saying that-," he started, yet she again interrupted him and nodded her head.

"If she turns into that creature, she will come back to our world and find someone to turn, tainting as many as she can until she creates a small horde. Then… then she will breed." She said sadly, as if the words meant something specific to her.

"Then why am I here? Why can't I help her? I've been stuck here for Maker knows how long!" he shouted, gesturing around wildly. "If she's in trouble, I need to get to her! Can you tell me how?"

"No child, I cannot. I can only send you back to the waking world to wait for her return." She sighed. "I will find her in the Fade myself. If she cannot complete her task, she will turn into a threat even greater than the darkspawn. Even I cannot allow this to pass. You must await her return in the tower. If I am with her, then all is well. If I am not, then she may need help. If she comes back as that creature, you must strike her down while she is weak. After a mere hour in our world, she will be nearly invincible." She looked at him thoughtfully, looking him up and down. "I knew you were the young man Love had foreseen. It is sad that spirits these days do not have as much foresight as they used to. This entire mess could have been avoided had she simply listened to her instincts."

She didn't wait for him to speak before she grabbed him by his breastplate, lifting him up as she light danced around her and shifted back to the shape of a dragon. In the templars head, a voice sounded as the world spun and grew dark.

_You are her one last hope. Be sure you do not fail_.

* * *

><p>~*.*~<p>

_3 days later, in the Black City market._

Nyra was impressed with the city.

The Black city was almost entirely made from Black gold, and during the day she could see speckles of light from the cracks made by age. It shimmered in a strange, shadowed way, and as she had climbed the stairs to the city she had marveled to Namina. The buildings were based off of black gold, but they must have decorated and covered the dark stones over the generations that it had survived. It felt like an eerie new reality, one opposite her own. The city was far more majestic than Denerim ever could be.

Namina had taken her shopping today, along with her daughter, and so that meant she needed the makeup. The kind mother did it herself, applying it with experience and skill. Soon, she was looking at radiant as she was when she entered, and was even gifted with a dark velvet cloak.

She looked like a beautiful demon of Pride. And that meant everyone would leave her and the family alone.

"What if Kraven crosses our paths?" she had asked nervously. After explaining the full situation to Namina, the demon had said they would deal with it as fate commanded. It didn't exactly comfort her, but she did not speak of it afterwards.

Now the sun was no longer visible within the city, though its light still reached the crevices of the buildings. The market was closing up for the evening, but the bars were beginning to open. Namina took Nami aside for a moment before coming back to Nyra and smiling. They had collected as much information they could about any sprites entering the city, but none of them were sprites of love. Only a sprite of passion had been heard to enter, and they had red hair and green eyes.

"You told me that Kraven had invited you to his home for a party within the last few days, correct?" when Nyra nodded, Namina grinned deviously. "Well, he has been throwing casual get-togethers of all the prestigious families in hopes that you would attend. He is throwing yet another this evening, in a few hours. If we are to attend, we must hurry to the tailors and purchase appropriate attire."

Nyra blinked before blushing slightly. "I do not understand how visiting a man who wishes to court me has anything to do with finding Love." She stammered, eyeing the woman strangely. Namina smiled slightly and gave her a patient look.

"We have been speaking to merchants and middle class citizens who only know what they _see_. However, someone in Kraven's position…" she grinned, and the mage suddenly understood.

"He'll know what's going on around the city, or someone at this party will." She smiled back, but it quickly turned to a frown as she realized something important. "I haven't the money to pay for appropriate attire, and you have already done too much. I cannot ask so much of you."

At these words, Namina took on a quiet, calculating look. She gazed back at Nyra with a speculative glance before speaking. "Nami, please go back to that wonderful Envy demon and tell her the Pride Sister she had met earlier wishes to purchase an evening casual dress, and will be along shortly. Go on."

"Yes mama," she said with excitement, dashing off in the twilight to find the stall. Nyra looked back at the mother with confusion. She seemed a little guarded.

"I know it may not seem as if you're doing anything for us, but… you are. The demons in the city consider you a sister of Pride, and you have told them that we are a part of your family. Whether you meant to or not, you gave us a suddenly higher image than we had previously. Because you are 'related' to us, that makes my darling Nami eligible to many, many different noble families. I've already encountered a few in the past few days, inquiring about her availability. The city has contacted us and has invited my family to take a look at housing. Up here, in _this_ very part of town." She said, and her eyes gleamed with a grateful, serious fervor. "I know you did nothing intentionally, but this… you appearing here and being in this world has caused a shift. If you attend the party tonight with both myself and my daughter in tow, it might be possible for her to have her dream come true. Would you deny us that small payment?"

"I… no, of course I wouldn't… I just don't want to be an inconvenience to-," Nyra started, but Namina laughed lightly and drew her in for a hug.

"You have been _no_ inconvenience. You have given us a chance for something more in our world. Because of you, doors have opened that would have remained shut. Before, I would have helped you regardless because you were in need, and we do not turn aside those who need us. But now, I will do whatever necessary to try and return the immense favor you have given us. I know I may not be able to before you must leave us, but I have to try my best. You deserve that much and more." She sighed into Nyra's hair, and the mage swore that she felt tears on her neck. As the mother pulled back, she did indeed have two light trails trickling from her eyes. "You have given me hope. Now I must reunite you with Love no matter the stakes. So, will you allow me to help you? Please?"

Nyra looked at her, really _looked_ at her as she tried to form words. She would have never expected the impact of her visit and stay with the demonic family, never would have thought that she would be raising them from the Undercity as a common family to the nobler part of the Black City. With her mind set and her shoulders squared, she nodded.

"Yes. Let's go to a party." And with that, the two made haste to the stall of the Envy demon.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** The story ideas I have are here, and I will also put them up as soon as I finish the first chapter of each. Also, I would be happy to put up and write new chapters more often if I had the inspiration to write. I feel like a barely have any readers, though I know I at least have a few. Please, review and let me know what you think!

"No Light"- a story with Male Hawke and an OC from our world, where the OC goes to Kirkwall and tries to find his way through fate. A little dark.

"What's a Mage To Do?"- A story where M! Amell attracts the attention of a _lot_ of different men [and women] after simply trying to do the right thing. Romance with Anders, Karl, Cullen, etc… not sure which one will stay permanent, though.

"Through Shadows, Darkly" - I want to do an M! Cousland and Alistair, focusing on the grief of M! Cousland after losing his parents. Rogue, probably going to be a little darker than most of my stories.

"Of Nobles and Nobodies"- This one is a little strange. There are two possible ways I can take this, and I'm not sure which one would be best. Either I can have Bann Teagan take interest in a female Amell or I can have him take interest in a male Cousland. It all depends upon what I feel like when I write the first chapter, but I won't write this one up until [or unless] someone votes for it.


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